


Patience

by AloeAloe



Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Angst, Coersion, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Manipulation, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 06:34:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17462423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AloeAloe/pseuds/AloeAloe
Summary: “A man lost in the desert must take such water as he is offered, no matter who it comes from.”  Joe AbercrombieTrapped in a desperate situation, Harry Dresden turns to the one man left who can help him.  However, the assistance of Johnny Marcone never comes cheap.Complete.





	1. The Snare

 “Sir, I really don’t think that-”

“As much as I value your opinion, Mr Hendricks, I didn’t ask for it.I did, however, ask for your report.”

“But, sir, I really-”

“The report.I will not ask again.”The voice was firm and deadly cold.

A pause

“Yes, sir.”

Hendricks shoulders hunched slightly as he mechanically started to read.It was with grim satisfaction that John Marcone noticed the other man was avoiding making eye contact - Hendricks hadn’t looked up from his stack of papers once.It would take Hendricks quite some time to work up the courage to challenge his instructions again.A mirthless smile tugged at Marcone’s lips.

“Dresden left his apartment at 6:45am to meet with his allies at...”

Marcone sat back into the expensive leather of his chair, taking in Hendrick’s monotone retelling of the events of Harry Dresden’s day.His office was immaculate and smelled of money.The desk was of smooth mahogany, clear apart from a neat stack of paperwork and several of carefully chosen paintings adorned the walls.However, the taste was impeccable.Marcone didn’t need to have showy decor: what did he, the mafia king pin of Chicago, have to prove to anyone?

“...they were ambushed, however and a fight followed.Several of Dresden’s companions were wounded, including...”

Harry Dresden, wizard.An immensely powerful man who had an unfortunate habit of blowing up any building he happened to spend more than five minutes in. He had already destroyed more than enough of Marcone’s property to be qualified to take up a career in demolition, and it seemed like there was no end in sight to the wizard’s meddling in affairs that had nothing to do with him. 

By all respects, Dresden was a thorn in Marcone’s side, and Marcone was not a tolerant man.If Marcone was to be rational, Dresden would have been dealt with long before he could have become such a... distraction.If Marcone was to be rational.

As a career criminal and leader of the vast majority of Chicago’s criminal underground, Marcone was not prone to being whimsical.However, there were few other words to describe his attitude to Harry Dresden.The other man fascinated him.He had helped Dresden, hindered Dresden, nearly gotten the man killed and yet, despite all that, he found great enjoyment in watching Dresden snap and snarl at hit whenever they met.To Marcone, there were few things in life that he viewed as more than a simple business transaction, and he found himself naturally gravitating towards the wizard.Marcone wasn’t a man to argue with himself, and he couldn’t deny a certain...attraction to the other man. 

Harry had magnetism, and Marcone was more than willing to indulge his fascination. 

“...and he then separated from his wounded companions.Our last report stated that he returned to his apartment where he is presumably attempting to...”

Marcone had needed to be resourceful, very resourceful, to keep such a close watch on the wizard.To call Dresden paranoid was an understatement, and Marcone knew all to well what normally happened to those unwise enough to meddle with the other man’s privacy.However, Marcone was clever and Marcone was patient. 

As a ‘vanilla’ mortal, and one with more than an average need to be discreet in his day to day business transactions, Marcone was well rehearsed in subterfuge.Where Dresden was finely attuned to magical surveillance, there were more basic methods Marcone could use to get an excellent grasp of the other man’s day to day existence.From blackmailing mailmen, to hacking into CCTV networks (this was only partially successful as Dresden was the bane of all modern technology) and even paying off neighbours, Marcone had a fairly good idea where Dresden was at any given time.Of course, there were times when the wizard was particularly evasive, such as when he crossed over into the NeverNever or whenever he was called away on White Council business, but he was exploring different avenues to close even those gaps. 

However, that was all second to Marcone’s main intention.

“It is assumed that Dresden will now-”

Marcone’s cool voice cut Hendricks off sharply. “To summarise,” he said, “Mr Dresden is facing a number of formidable opponents, his allies are absent, incapacitated or unable to assist him and that he, and as a result many innocent people, are facing certain death if he fails to eliminate the immediate threat?”

There was a long pause. 

“Yes, sir.”

“I see.That will be enough.Thank you, Hendricks.” 

The man’s posture was stiff and he still failed to meet Marcone’s eyes.The papers, covered in small type outlining the minutia of Harry Dresden’s day to day life, had crumpled in Hendricks’ tight grip.“Yes, sir.”He nodded at his employer once and left the room, closing the door with a soft click.

Although it would be a lie to say that the wizard didn’t spend most of his time in one form of grave peril or another, the current threat was more than usually dire.Not only that, but his usual ragtag bunch of allies were out of action.Dresden would know that it was suicide to try and resolve the issue by himself.Not only that, but he would be keenly aware that such an act of foolish bravado would result in the loss of countless innocent lives, not only his own. 

The conclusion?Harry was cornered. And it was exactly where Marcone wanted him.

After years of waiting for such an opportunity, John was finally holding all of the cards.All he had to do now was wait for Dresden to overcome that insufferable, irresistible pride of his and come begging him for assistance.And Marcone’s help didn’t come cheap. 

Alone in his spotless office, Marcone leaned back in his chair and allowed himself to smile.

* * *

Harry stood before John’s desk; Marcone observed him coolly over steepled fingers.

Harry, although perpetually looking in need of a good night of sleep, appeared more than normally weary and worn down.His famous leather duster was tattered and torn in places, dark bruises contrasted sharply with the pale skin of his face and there were streaks of blood showing through jagged tears in his black shirt. His blasting road was nowhere to be seen: he had presumably lost it during the last round of fighting.

Despite the wretched state of the other man, John felt no pity.There was no room for such feelings in business.Vulnerability in other parties provided valuable opportunities in Marcone’s line of work; this was his chance to finally tear down those walls Dresden had been so eager to construct.He relished the opportunity.

Harry, although a very tall man, seemed to shrink in Marcone’s office.He was out of place, incongruous with the stylish, modern interior. 

“Look, I don’t have time for the usual bullshit,” Harry growled, voice slightly hoarse.“ As much as I would love to stay and chat, I have other scumbags to deal with today.You know what I need from you, so save us both some time and just agree already.”

“I’m sorry, Harry, but I have no idea what you mean.”

“It’s Dresden.My _friends_ call me Harry.And, as I already told you, I don’t have time for this - _hell_ , I don’t have time to be here!Cut the crap already, Marcone.”

“But Harry,” Marcone savoured the look of annoyance that flashed across Dresden’s face, “if you don’t ask me a direct question, how can I provide you with a direct answer?”

At this, the wizard’s already frayed patience suddenly snapped.He advanced on the desk with long strides and slammed his palms down on the smooth wood.

“Don’t act as though you have no idea what I’m talking about,” he snarled, fire burning in his eyes.“This is way above me and it’s in your interest, as well as mine, that the city still exists tomorrow rather than being a smoking pile of rubble.”

A lesser man would have been intimidated by such a display, but not John Marcone.He simply sat back in his chair and coolly observed the other man.If he was in any way affected by Dresden’s outrage, he didn’t show it. 

Frustrated by Marcone’s serenity in the face of his fury, Dresden pulled back and span on his heel so that he was facing away from the other man.He raised a hand to his temples and rubbed at them, posture stiff.He said something, but the words were indistinct as they had been snarled rather than spoken. 

Although Marcone found few things more enjoyable than watching Dresden wrestle with his pride, he was going to have to hurry things along.Despite his blasé response to the wizard’s entreaties, he wasn’t quite ready to see Chicago raised to the ground.However, Dresden didn’t need to know that. 

“What was that?” Marcone said.

“I need your help - and trust me,” Harry grit his teeth as he spoke, “if there was anyone else in the world capable of helping me right now, I would be knocking on their door, not yours.Is that clear enough for you?”

“Ah, I see.Thank you for clarifying matters.” Harry didn’t rise to the bait, not this time.“I’m sure that we can come to an arrangement.”

This, however, did get a reaction.

“An arrangement?Isn’t Chicago _not_ being the magical equivalent of a nuclear fallout zone enough for you? 

“I am a businessman, Harry-”

“We are not on first name terms, you-”

Marcone continued as if Harry had never spoken.“...and as a businessman I need to ensure that any transaction is favourable to me.”

“Oh, so saving hundreds of lives, including your own, isn’t good enough then?”

“My life is not at risk here - I have made adequate precautions in case of such an event as the one you describe.As for Chicago, that would be a benefit, yes, but you aren’t asking me to simply save the city.If you want of me what I think you do, you are asking me to put myself, my men and my reputation in danger to sort out a mess completely of your own creation.The White Council wouldn’t help you with this if you begged them.”

Harry Dresden, however, was a hard man to silence.“That makes no difference!”

“That makes all the difference,” Marcone quickly countered.“I will require additional - how shall I put this - _motivation_ to carry out your requests.”

There was a moment’s pause. 

“Right, Marcone, what ‘motivation’ exactly do you want?” Dresden’s voice was laden with acid. “If you want me to sign up to your little club and become one of your goons, then you’ve got another thing coming.And if you haven’t already noticed, I’m not exactly going to be able to rustle up the spare change to pay you much.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“What?Not to be cynical, but I’m not about to believe you’re a philanthropist.”

Marcone stood and walked around the desk to stand in front of the other man.The only sound was the soft whisper of the fabric of his suit as he moved.His movements were measured and deliberate.Dresden was clearly agitated and Marcone didn’t feel like loosing a limb or two because the wizard got trigger happy.Slowly, Marcone placed a hand on the other man’s shoulder.He felt the muscles tense under his palms and the lights in the room flickered in response to Dresden’s surprise.He skimmed his palm over the fabric of Dresden’s shirt, up to his neck until he cupped the wizard’s jaw in his hand, palm skimming over a couple of day’s worth of stubble. 

Harry seemed too stunned to do anything more than stare at Marcone.Their eyes locked, and memories of their soul gaze rose in Marcone’s mind.That had been the start of it all, his fascination, his fixation,with the other man.

“You know,” John’s voice was dangerously soft, “there are other ways you can repay me.”

Harry backed off rapidly, almost stumbling in his haste to distance himself from Marcone.Dresden gawked at the other man, opening and closing his mouth, but no sound was forthcoming.With a snarl, the wizard finally turned on his heel and all but fled from the room.The door slammed loudly as he left, causing the paintings to shudder on the walls.

Marcone still stood before his desk.He could still feel the echo of Dresden’s warmth in his palm.It was a pleasurable sensation. 

How long would it take the other man to come to the one, inevitable conclusion?Not long, probably, considering how dire the current situation was. 

Marcone seated himself behind his desk and began to wait.

* * *

In the end, it took just over three hours.  The wizard’s strong sense of justice dragged him back; he just couldn’t let such destruction unfold because of him.  In his heart, Harry Dresden was a good man, and it was a cruel world that let others exploit such goodness. 

“I agree to your terms,” the voice was stiff and Marcone noticed that it contained none of Dresden’s usual fire. _He would have to work on that._

“I need your word,” the crime lord’s voice was calm and betrayed none of his mounting excitement.He’d been waiting for this for so long...

Dresden sighed, avoiding the other man’s eyes.“You have my word that, in exchange for your assistance, I will-” he paused, as if the words were caught in his throat.When he continued his voice was raw with suppressed emotion. “I will obey your instructions, provided that they do not require me to use magic, lead to criminal activity or the harm of another person.”

“Good.We have a deal.” 

Although Marcone felt nothing by simply saying the words, Harry clearly did as he shuddered slightly despite the relative warmth of the room.Perhaps he could feel the chains of his oath slipping around him even now?But, it was of no matter.John had gotten what he wanted. 

“I will mobilise my men directly and provide you with whatever you require to subdue the current threat to the city,” Marcone’s tone was businesslike, but his eyes gleamed as he looked at the other man.His.

He reached out a hand touched the front of Harry’s leather duster.It felt smooth under his hand and slightly warm with the wizard’s body heat.Harry shuddered at the trespass.

“Although the present predicament is about to make us very busy men, I believe there is time for just one order before we leave.”

“Oh yeah?”

Although Harry tried to keep his tone indifferent, Marcone noted the subtle tremor, the other man’s rigid posture.He smiled a shark’s grin.

“Kiss me.”


	2. Languish

Harry lay full length on his worn leather sofa.  It was early evening and a cool beer was loosely gripped in his one hand.  A battered copy of _The Fellowship of the Ring_ was discarded next to him on the rug, which also contained a sleeping Mouse.  The only sound was Mouse’s gentle breathing and occasional soft bark as he dreamed about whatever dogs dream of.  Mister was nowhere to be seen: out terrorising the neighbourhood cats, probably.

It was a deceptively idyllic scene.

Harry was fairly convinced that the universe hated him. That, or he’d managed to royally piss off some deity and he was getting more than his fair share of divine retribution.His life so far seemed to act as a perfect case study to support this judgement. The vast majority of his teenage to adult life had been spent in one form of mortal peril or another. His romantic entanglements all followed roughly the same trajectory: slow start, a bumpy ride, then a crash.Not only that, but his finances were a mess and maintaining a positive bank balance was a near Herculean task.And now, as if he didn’t already have enough shit to deal with already, the universe decided to spit in his face one final time. 

He was now Marcone’s dog.Harry had let Marcone, the biggest, baddest scumbag in Chicago, to put a leash on him. _Johnny Marcone_.The very idea was anathema to him.

To help him cope with the roiling, wrenching unease that the ‘agreement’, if you could call it that, caused him, Harry had tried to reason with himself.It was agree or die.More specifically, it was agree or he, along with thousands of innocent people, die.As unbearable as it was, Harry couldn’t live with the deaths of a whole city’s population on his conscience.Better to be alive and collared than not be alive at all.

But...despite the impossibility of such a decision, he still hurt at the loss of his autonomy.Marcone, slippery bastard that he was, had known Harry was cornered.And, instead of offering assistance like any human being with a fifth of a speck of a hundredth of human compassion would do, Marcone had bled Harry dry.Yes, there were limits to their arrangement.Marcone couldn’t get him to do magic, anything criminal or to harm another person, but there was a still a whole world of shit left that Marcone could ask of Harry that Harry _really did not want to do_. 

He shivered and hastily took another swig of his beer.He thought back to the ‘incident’. _That kiss..._

At the sudden request, Harry had been tempted to do any number of things.Laugh in the other man’s face, set fire to that stylish atrocity of an office, _hell_ , set fire to Marcone, but... he had given his word.And although Harry had been blindsided by the sudden request for such... _intimacy_... he couldn’t honestly say he didn’t see it coming.When Marcone touched his face, his loaded words: there are other ways to repay me?The man may as well have asked him to bend over the desk then and there.The very idea sat like the weight of a stone in his gut.When had Marcone, criminal mobster asshole Marcone, developed such an interest in him?The idea of it left Harry cold and his palms itching for the welcome warmth of offensive magic. 

However, to break his word, to disobey Marcone’s direct orders would hurt Harry. To break his solemn oath would damage Harry’s power as it had done before with Lea.Considering the royal mess Chicago had a nasty tendency to become, he couldn’t.He just couldn’t.The city needed his defensive power.Similarly, the power of the oath wouldn’t give him a ‘get out of jail free’ card.He couldn’t just kill Marcone and stroll off as clean as a whistle.Killing one of the parties of the agreement would be equivalent to breaking it, so that wasn’t a viable option. 

But, that didn’t mean Harry was out of options.

Yes, Harry had to follow Marcone’s instructions, but language itself is a notoriously slippery thing.Anyone who has spent more than two minutes in the company of the sidhe knows there are a more than hundred ways to twist and turn and tie a few harmless words into knots.So, Harry had to obey Marcone’s orders.There was one redeeming feature in this situation: it was up to Harry how those orders were interpreted. 

There were limits, of course, but Harry was determined to stretch and distort Marcone’s instructions as much as humanly possible.So, Marcone could ask him to make a cheese sandwich.What was stopping Harry from using the mouldiest, rankest cheese he could source and serving it up on stale bread?

Say one thing for Harry Blackstone Slippery Bastard Dresden, he knows what to do when life gives you lemons.

So when Marcone, snake that he was, had asked Harry to kiss him, he had retained the ability to think on his feet.In response to the other man’s request, helped by the fact he was taller than Marcone, Harry had simply leaned over and placed a chaste kiss on the top of the mafia crime lord’s head, like you would to a toddler or small child.He then ran out of the room before the other man could utter another word.Despite his hasty retreat, he could still hear the sound of the other man’s mirthless laughter as he fled from the room.Bastard.

And...once again, the city had been saved.Marcone had stayed true to his word and they were able to accomplish it with no casualties, which Harry was grateful for: he didn’t want any more blood on his hands.

Since then, he had been keeping an extremely low profile.He avoided going into the office, didn’t answer the phone and spent most of his time in his basement fiddling with ‘Little Chicago’ or working on defensive potions that could come in handy.Thomas and Murphy were concerned by Harry’s MIA status.Both of them, alarmed at the sudden white noise, had called round separately to check up on him.He’d told them nothing was wrong - a lie - because he couldn’t bring himself to tell them the truth.

Looking at Murphy had caused a dull throb in his chest.There was, had been, something between them. However, that ‘something’ had never quite worked itself out.And now, with Marcone’s particular interest in him, his stomach lurched with distaste, Harry found it painful to even think of the petite officer. 

Yes, Harry was almost certain that the universe hated him.He knew that he could only twist Marcone’s words so far, that at some point the bastard would catch up with him (the thought made his stomach clench, and Harry was a hard man to shake), but for now, let the peace last a bit longer, just a little bit longer.

He took another slow sip of his beer and tried to block out the world.Beside him, Mouse let out a gentle huff and rolled over in his sleep.

* * *

“To confirm, Mr Dresden has not left his apartment for any substantial amount of time for over a week?”

“Yes, sir.Unless he’s been using the Nevernever to travel, which seems unlikely.He lets his dog out and has bought groceries twice, but other than that he hasn’t visibly left the building.”

“I see. Thank you Mr Hendricks, that will be all.”

“Sir.”

As the door shut softly, Marcone allowed himself to ponder the issue.Harry had turned recluse before, just after that incident with Miss Rodriguez.He remembered the time with distaste.Of course, he had continued to receive his daily updates on Mr Dresden during the period, but all they contained were reports of Harry’s self destructive downward spiral.Marcone hated wasted potential, so he had been pleased when the wizard gradually returned to his usual defiantly cantankerous self. 

Marcone had to admit, Harry was most...entertaining when riled up.Perhaps it was something to do with the magic?

So, did this period of inertia signal the beginning of the wizard wallowing in self loathing and, therefore, his apartment?John hoped not.

Something would have to be done.

* * *

“I’m fine, Michael.How many times do I have to tell you?”

“I wish I could believe you, Harry.Molly’s worried about you.We all know you lead a busy life, but for you to simply disappear and cancel all of your lessons?

The phone was sweaty in Harry’s tight grip.“Well, something came up and-”

“I’m coming over.”

Harry brought his free hand up to his face to rub distractedly at his temples.“You don’t have to.Look, I can promise you that my life isn’t in danger.It’s a non-apocalypse related issue that I can deal with.Trust me.”

“Harry, I’d still like to-”

“No.You’ve finally got a bit of time with the kids - use it.I’m fine, really.And trust me, if I did need your help you’d be the first one to hear about it.”

A pause.He could visualise Michael’s frown perfectly.

“Okay, but I’m still not comfortable letting you moulder in your apartment.”The voice was heavy with displeasure, but now took on a softer tone, the way it did whenever Michael talked about home or his family.“You should come over to dinner some time - Molly would really like to see you.So would I.  What about this Saturday?”

It was Harry’s turn to pause.

“That...that would be great.Thanks, Michael.”

“It’s what friends are for.”

Harry barked out a laugh.“Yeah. See you Saturday.

“See you Saturday.”

Harry returned the phone to the receiver and sighed.Sometimes, he wondered how he would ever be worthy of such a friend as Michael.The man never failed to see right through him. 

After the call, he occupied himself for a little over an hour with a particularly difficult potion that would come in handy if he ever got himself (rephrase that, _when_ ) he found himself at odds with the Red Court again.The activity, along with Bob’s constant prattle of advice, was soothing.When your head is in a mess, it’s always a good idea to put your hands to work.

He’d just got all of the different ingredients sorted when the doorbell rang. 

_Damn it_.He must have failed to convince Michael to stay away and spend some quality time with the kids.Now he would have to be interrogated in person, and Harry wasn’t sure if he would be able to withhold the truth from his friend. 

He climbed the ladder back up to his apartment to Bob’s cheerful shouts of encouragement, mainly to get out, stay out, get a life and some (lots) of women. _Good old Bob..._

He strode over to the door, releasing his wards so that the other man would be able to enter the apartment in one piece.Mouse sat up, eyeing the door with interest. 

“Michael, I told you-” he said as he opened the door, but cut off abruptly when he saw who was on the other side.

“Hello, Harry,” said John Marcone.“May I come in?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t think my adoration for Michael can be put into words. I’d love to do a Michael/Harry bit of writing (especially after all their bromance in Small Favor), but it would have to be AU or under some absolutely insane circumstances. Well, I’ll get all the Harry/Marcone love out of my system first. ;)
> 
> I didn’t really think I could do this justice in two chapters, so I’m aiming for three. Thanks for the comments and kudos so far.


	3. To Entwine

John Marcone traced his fingertips along the mantlepiece.It was the first time he had ever ventured inside of the wizard’s apartment.Due to Harry’s complex assortment of wards, as explained to him by Gard, the area was a dead surveillance zone.To finally have access to an area of Harry’s life that had so long evaded him was deeply satisfying, a puzzle piece falling into place

He savoured the details of the room: the mismatched assortment of furniture, most of it clearly second hand; the different colours and textures of the rugs layering the floor; the scattered paperback books lying beside a tired leather sofa.It was an eclectic mix that somehow suited its owner, like a kind of full body glove that Harry had constructed around himself.He was unsurprised by the lack of family photographs.John was well aware of Harry’s troubled family life from their soul gaze that had lasted both an instant and an eternity. 

On the far side of the room a door was slightly ajar, revealing a tiny room containing a messy, unmade bed.Dresden’s bed.The sight of it was a delicious invasion of the other man’s privacy.

A low growl suddenly distracted Marcone from his musings.

It was the dog. 

John was apathetic towards animals.Running the largest criminal organisation in Chicago was a career choice that left him with little time to dedicate to ‘non-essentials’.Pets fell under this category.Furthermore, he had never felt the need to show off his machismo as so many in his career path sadly felt the need to do; a couple of large, ferocious canines with a surplus of teeth seemed to be the go to accessory of the criminally inclined.

Interestingly, ‘a large, ferocious canine with a surplus of teeth’ was a fitting description for Harry Dresden’s dog.

Mouse, he recalled the its name from a previous report, was undeniably huge.Ever since he had entered the apartment, the creature had stared at him balefully, never taking its eyes from him.However, it took a lot more than a big dog to make John Marcone uneasy - he was a man who had fought with werewolves.And, as the dog didn’t seem about to imminently attack, he therefore decided to ignore it.If the creature did decide to take an unreasonable interest in him,he had a gun ready and waiting in a concealed holster. 

Harry had left him (disregarding the animal) unsupervised for over ten minutes now.John smiled to himself grimly.Harry Dresden, scuttling away with his tail between his legs?This was one for the history books. 

Dresden, almost as soon as John had entered the apartment, had snarled there was something he urgently had to deal with and that Marcone could ‘damn well wait’ until he was done.He swiftly disappeared through a trapdoor in the centre of the floor, presumably leading down to a basement, and slammed it shut after him.Needless to say, the wizard was clearly trying to make a point. 

Despite the obvious snub, John wasn’t annoyed: a dog could growl as much as it liked while its muzzle was firmly in place and Harry’s ire was a constant source of amusement.Moreover, the wizard’s clear ploy for time had also provided him with the rare opportunity to take in his living quarters, an opportunity that Marcone wasn’t planning on wasting. 

Therefore, after another ten minutes, Harry returned to the room to be greeted by the image of Jonny Marcone, Chicago’s criminal king pin, sitting on his couch and flicking through one of his paperbacks.The man obviously wasn’t seriously considering reading the book, Harry pretty sure sitting down with _The Hobbit_ wasn’t on Marcone’s to do list, but the message was loud and clear: John Marcone could do whatever he wanted.

It was an obvious attempt to rattle him, and Harry therefore decided to ignore it.Squashing down the anger, _calm Harry, calm_ , he stalked over to Mouse.He reached out to pet the dog’s head, his fuzzy warmth reassuring against his palm. 

However, there was no point in delaying the inevitable any further.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” he drawled.“It must take a lot to drag Dark Lord Johnny Marcone down from his ivory tower.”

Marcone didn’t even look up from the book.“I was concerned,” he said, continuing to scan the yellowed pages.“You have been making yourself a hard man to contact.So, I decided that the personal approach was best.”

Harry decided to skip the usual bout of verbal sparring and cut straight to the chase.

Harry snorted loudly.“Concerned? _Yeah right_.Just cut the bullshit and tell me what you want.”

At this, Marcone did look up.He put the book to one side and stood up, briefly brushing down his suit as if Harry’s sofa had somehow dirtied it. 

“I have a car waiting outside.” Marcone’s tone was calm.“Would you care to join me?”

“ _Bite me_.”

“That’s an order, Harry.”

Harry didn’t argue: there was no point.The other man watched in silence as he pulled on his leather duster and grabbed his blasting rod.Marcone didn’t object. He knew that Harry didn’t pose any threat to him, _not any more_.

Before leaving, Harry paused briefly to ruffle Mouse’s fur.The big dog whined, pushing forward against Harry’s legs and nearly flooring the wizard with his sheer bulk.

“I know, boy,” he said.“I’ll be back soon.” 

Despite his words, he had no idea if that would actually be the case.

* * *

Harry took in his surroundings trying his best not to gawk. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Marcone was trying to _impress_ him.

The drive there had been deeply uncomfortable.Hendricks and Gard had sat up front with him and Marcone in the back.No one had said a word for the entire trip, not that Harry was complaining: he would probably enjoy conversing with sentient pond slime from farthest reaches of the NeverNever more than chitchat with Marcone’s crew.

After what felt like aeons, they had finally arrived.Harry had briefly considered making a run for it.Marcone had only instructed him to get in the car and _theoretically_ he was free to go.  However,  the prospect of being rugby tackled by Hendricks and dragged back wasn’t one that he relished.He was going to have to face Marcone head on at one point.Why not make it now?

The building was a modern high rise kind of thing, the sort with lots of shiny metal and glass, and was obviously one of Marcone’s more recent acquisitions. 

When Marcone headed for the elevators, clearly expecting him to follow, Hendricks and Gard simply took a seat in the lobby.He’d be lying is he said he’d miss the double act (particularly not the red haired behemoth,Harry had seen enough of _him_ for a lifetime), but he wasn’t exactly comfortable with being alone with Marcone.He had a pretty good idea of the gangster’s intentions, the thought made him want to start clubbing people (preferably Marcone) with his blasting rod, and he was painfully aware of how the oath left him at a distinct disadvantage. 

This wasn’t a fair fight, and Marcone knew it.

After a brief and silent ride in the elevator (for once he wasn’t grateful the thing didn’t break down) and a swift walk down a corridor, Harry followed Marcone through a heavy door of polished wood.  He found himself stood in the centre of a large open plan room. 

The decor was lavish, but not ostentatious.As with Marcone’s office, the taste was unquestionable. It was a stylish mix of hard wood, gleaming marble surfaces and carefully selected objects d’art.Harry hated it. 

It also wasn’t lost on him that there was a visible lack of electronics: no TV, no computer.This place had been put together with magic in mind.The thought made him deeply uncomfortable.

“Wow, _nice place_!” Harry’s voice was loaded with sarcasm.“This is some prime real estate.So, how many people did you kill, cheat or get hooked on drugs to pay for the bachelor pad?”

Predictably, Marcone didn’t take the bait.

“This is just something I had made up in case I had to stay late at the office,” he said, walking across the room.“It happens occasionally. Would you like a drink?

“Look, I’m not here to play house with you.Just say what you want to say and then let me go the hell home.”

John walked over to a well stocked drinks cabinet, all shining wood and metal, and took out a bottle containing an amber liquid.As he poured himself a drink, ice clinking in the glass, he loosened his tie slightly. 

Seeing this side of the man was disquieting.So far, he had only been subjected to Marcone in full mobster mode or the Rambo version where he was armed to the teeth.Harry was fairly sure he preferred the Rambo edition.

Having poured himself a drink, Marcone moved over to the couch.Like his, it was leather.Unlike his, it was probably worth more than Harry’s apartment and didn’t look like it had had five previous owners.Marcone took a seat and surveyed the wizard over his glass.

“Harry,” he said, and took a sip of his drink. “As a businessman, I would like to point out to you that it would be beneficial to both of us if we have a healthy working relationship.”Dresden snorted, but Marcone continued regardless. “We have a contract, one I intend to honour.If it helps, I can give you my word that, in addition to our current conditions, I would never order you to put yourself in a situation that may risk your life or those of your friends.I would also offer a financial incentive, but I can anticipate your response.”

“ _Damn right you can_!” Harry snarled.“I wouldn’t take your dirty money if you-”

“So, what is the issue? I believe I am being more than reasonable in my actions.”

“Look, John, that’s _super duper_ kind of you,” Harry’s tone was acerbic, “but it’s what you’ve omitted from your list that I’m worried about.”

Marcone raised a quizzical brow. “Oh?”

Harry was charging head first into uncharted territory here, but he’d be damned if that would stop him.He’d seen how Marcone looked at him, he knew what the man meant by ‘ _other ways to repay me_ ’. Give Harry Dresden two and two, he’ll give you four. 

“Look, John, I’m not one of those, those,” he struggled for words, “ _girls_ at Executive Priority.Sorry to disappoint you, but I am not interested in _this_. _Any of this_.” He gestured between himself and Marcone.“If it helps, it’s not personal. I like chicks.”

Marcone laughed gently at this.The sound was low and smooth, but completely devoid of real mirth.He took another sip of his drink.

His next words left Harry completely cold.

“Luckily for me,” he said, “you’ve already signed away your right to an opinion.My terms are more than reasonable, and it is only fair that I am compensated for my efforts.”

A pause.

And Harry realised that, to Marcone, this was all it was: a transaction. To a man who spends all day organising a criminal organisation that spans the breadth and depth of Chicago, this must be nothing.This was child’s play. 

But that didn’t mean it was any less wrong.

“ _I’m leaving_ ,” Harry snarled, turning on his heel and striding towards the door.

Marcone laughed his mirthless laugh.“No, you’re not.”

‘Not a specific order, asshole,’ Harry thought.‘It doesn’t count.’

He was nearly there.The door handle was just out of his grasp.

_Not a specific order... Doesn’t fucking count..._

And he was finally there.Harry grabbed the polished metal handle and yanked the door open.

But the voice stopped him.

“You will remain in this room until I give you permission to leave.”Marcone’s voice was cold and sharp.This was the reality under that benign facade he insisted on maintaining. 

Harry froze, the corridor was right in front of him.Just one more step...

“You do realise that, if you don’t want to lose your powers, you will have to follow my orders.Any amount of complaining won’t stop that.”Although he couldn’t see Marcone move, he heard the clink of ice as he set down his drink and stood up.“And if you insist on being... _difficult_ , remember that my patience has limits.”Harry could hear the other man’s footsteps as he walked across the room.“I could call in Mr Hendricks or Ms Gard to observe.”A pause.“Or, perhaps they aren’t _personal_ enough for you. What about Mr Carpenter of Lieutenant Murphy?That apprentice of yours?I’m sure that they would be very _interested_ in our current relationship.”

Harry felt as though he was made of ice, like he would shatter at any moment.The lights in the room flickered in response to his turmoil.The door was open, but it may as well have been an impassable wall.Marcone knew he could only give one answer. 

Harry didn’t need to speak.His silence was enough.

Marcone was so close that, when he next spoke, his breath feathered across Harry’s neck.He could _hear_ the smirk his words. 

“Now, Harry, you always insist on using that mouth of yours to argue with me.Why don’t we put it to _another_ use?”

And Harry released his grip on the handle.  The door swung shut with a click, blocking his view of the world outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader: So, AloeAloe, what is your favourite thing about writing?
> 
> AA: Middle aged men.
> 
> Reader: Ah...middle aged men. Right... Anything else?
> 
> AA: Middle aged men in...suits? 
> 
> Reader: Yes, we get that. So, apart from the middle aged men, what else do you like about writing? 
> 
> AA: Middle aged men in suits... and... and...
> 
> Reader: And..?
> 
> AA: And unnecesary amounts of sexual tension along with superfluous cliffhangers to withhold the climax (in a narrative and a literal sense) for as long as humanly possible so that when we get there, when we finally get to the smut, it feels like the culmination of something magical? Like getting the gold medal after running a marathon?
> 
> Reader: Fuck off.


	4. No Way Back, Darling, There’s No Way Back

Hendricks opened the car door for Harry, closed it after him and then took a seat in the front.He flicked on the headlights, by now it was deep into the evening, before pulling away from the curb. 

They drove for a few minutes in silence.  Harry was slumped in the back seat and Hendrick’s posture was rigid as he drove.His eyes kept flicking to the rear view mirror, catching glimpses of Dresden.

The wizard, despite his formidable height, was hunched over.He had that staff he insisted on carrying around with him over his lap, and Hendricks could see his knuckles were white with how tightly he was gripping it.Yeah, he didn’t like the wizard, but what his boss was doing, what he _thought_ his boss was doing, didn’t sit well with him.There was business and there was messing up people’s lives.Hendricks felt that Mr Marcone’s current pursuit, as much as it pained him to think it, was straying into the second category.

Feeling conflicted was a relatively new experience for Hendricks.The nice thing about working for a man like Johnny Marcone was that you could simply put your moral compass to one side and do what you were told.Guarding the boss?Fine.Kneecapping someone for encroaching on the company’s business interests?Equally fine.Helping the boss stalk, entrap and do God knows what else to an annoying, but essentially _good_ man..?Uncomfortable.

Hendricks’ loyalty and his neglected sense of morality were pulling him in opposite directions.It didn’t help that, right now, his boss wasn’t there.Who was there was a man who, several hours earlier, had entered the building looking like he was full of fire.Now, he just looked defeated.

He gathered up his courage.As much as he didn’t want to do this, he knew he would regret it afterwards if he didn’t.

“Dresden?”His mouth felt uncomfortably dry and his voice came out raspy. 

Several moments passed. 

“What is it, Hendricks?” The voice was tired and completely devoid of its normal bravado.

“Look, I thought... I thought you should know that-” Hendricks was struggling to get past the false starts.He wished he’d never opened his mouth.“If you ever need help with anything, off the books, I could help you out.I thought you might-”

“You know what, Cujo?” Dresden’s voice cut over his suddenly.

“What?”

“ _You can fuck off._ ”

The rest of the drive was in silence.

* * *

**Earlier that day**

Harry stood in front of the closed door. From behind, Marcone snaked his arms around the other man and placed a gentle kiss on the side of Harry’s neck.In response, Harry took in a sharp intake of breath.His pulse was racing.If he was free to do as he wanted, he would have been out of that door and halfway down the corridor by now.That, or he would have punched Marcone square in the face.

However, Harry wasn’t free to do what he wanted.So he simply stood there, trapped by the bond of his word.

Marcone stepped away.Harry wasn’t even given time to enjoy the sensation of being left the hell alone due to the crime lord’s next command: “Put down your staff and take off your coat.”

Harry was hit again with the instinctual desire to fight or flee.They were about to cross a line, and there was no turning back once they did.

But... there was no point in delaying the inevitable. _His oath saw to that._

After a moment’s hesitation, Harry mechanically began to move. He propped his blasting rod next to the door and removed his duster with quick, jerky movements.Beneath it he wore a Star Wars t-shirt along with his faded denim jeans.

“Thank you.Now, why don’t you turn around and face me?”

And Harry did so.He was slightly taller than Marcone, so he found himself looking down into his money coloured eyes.Was it his imagination, or were they a little brighter than normal? 

Marcone smiled a lop sided smile and reached out to Harry, skimming his palms over his chest, pausing to trace the logo on his shirt.Harry reflexively stiffened under the other man’s touch.Marcone gave a low laugh.

“Has anyone ever told you that your dress sense is about as developed as your sense of humour?”

“ _I don’t dress pretty for criminal assholes_ ,” he snarled.“Why don’t you save us both a lot of bother by shutting the hell up?”

“Defensive when threatened, as always.There’s no need to worry though, I don’t intend on hurting you.”

Harry couldn’t stop himself.“Oh yeah?You could have fooled me, asshole.”

Another chuckle.He raised a hand to play with the hair at the nape of Harry’s neck.He shivered and pulled away instinctively. Marcone’s arm fell back to his side and he gave a little sigh. 

“You know,” he said, “this doesn’t have to be a bad experience for you.”

Harry didn’t reply for several moments.

“No, _John_ , I think it does.”

Marcone continued to look coolly at Harry, expression unreadable.“Have it your way,” he said.“But you do realise that I could simply order you to consume one of a number of substances that would make you more... _compliant_?”

Harry locked gazes with the other man.

“Then _do it_ , Marcone.Although, with pillow talk as bad as yours, it’s no surprise that you have to drug your partners.”

Marcone didn’t move his gaze from Harry’s face.Was it his imagination, or did the other man’s lip quirk at his last statement? _Was the psychotic bastard trying not to smile?_

“No, maybe another time.  There are other ways to gain your cooperation.”  He paused for a moment, thinking.  When he next spoke, his words were clearly carefully considered.  “Over the next hour, you will reciprocate my actions as you would those of a lover.  Failure to do so will be a breach of our agreement and carry the consequences.”

And, just like that, Harry was trapped.He had allowed himself to be lured into the dragon’s lair and had no method of defending himself: he was completely at the other man’s mercy.

Marcone, watching Harry intently, smiled grimly to himself.Suddenly, he leaned forward and pushed him against the hard wood of the door, pressing his lips against those of the other man; Harry couldn’t help but try and pull away, it was an impulse, but the action caused the chains of his oath around him pull tight around him: _he was dangerously close to breaking it..._

Marcone, noticing Harry’s reluctance, sighed once again.“Remember the agreement, Harry. _Remember the agreement._ ”His voice was low.

This time, when Marcone leaned over to kiss him, cupping Harry’s face in his hand, he didn’t pull away.When Marcone pushed his tongue against his lips, he opened them, allowing him access.He could faintly taste the whisky the man had drunk earlier.It was a welcome distraction from the sensation of the other man’s lithe body pushing against his own, a knee pushing insistently between his legs to open them.

The oath tugged at him once again.Marcone wanted this to be reciprocal.For it to be reciprocal, Harry would have to participate.For Harry to participate, he would have to do...things that went against his every instinct.But, _it would have to be done._

Feeling as though he was about to embrace the devil himself, Harry wrapped his arms around the other man, pulling Marcone towards him.

* * *

It was evening now and, despite the bright lights of the apartment, the dimness of the night had begun to creep into the room.

Marcone was sat comfortably on the smooth leather of the sofa. Dresden was knelt in front of him, and he idly ran a hand through the other man’s hair, looking own at him with a surprisingly gentle expression.His posture was relaxed: his tie was nowhere to be seen and several buttons of his shirt were undone.This was a side of himself that he would never show to any of his clients or employees.So, what could make Johnny Marcone, the feared overlord of Chicago’s criminal underworld, let down his guard like this?The knowledge that his witness was in his complete control.

Harry was knelt in front of him, but he looked slightly different than he had earlier.His hair, although never neat, was obviously mussed and his shirt was missing, leaving his chest exposed.The top two buttons of his jeans were undone and his chest, other than being decorated with the scars of past battles, also had an irregular series of red marks.Bites.Marcone had wanted to put a collar on Harry and, in a way, he had. 

As Harry knelt before Marcone, between the other man’s legs, he moved his head up and down clumsily.Saliva dripped down his chin as he lapped and sucked and licked. 

Despite Harry’s best efforts to distance himself from what he was doing (Lash had left him with some useful strategies), it was impossible for him to take his mind off the reality of it.He, Harry Dresden, was on his knees in front of the bastard of all bastards, John Marcone, and...and... _Fuck it.Fuck it all to hell and back._

It didn’t help that the other man was patting his head like a fucking dog.He’d had enough of this game by now.All Harry wanted was for Marcone to finish so he could go the fuck home.

“You’re surprisingly good at this, Harry.”Obviously a lie to get a rise from him - Harry knew he was doing a shitty job of it. “Have you had practice?That vampire you keep company with - Raith?Or maybe Mr Carpenter?”

Harry pulled away.A string of saliva connected his mouth to Marcone.“Well no, _John_.Neither of _them_ would have to entrap some poor sucker to get their kicks.”

He smiled down at Harry.He ran a thumb over the other man’s swollen lips. 

“Keep going,” he said.And Harry did.

After what felt like an eternity to Harry, the pressure of the other man’s hand on his head increased and he found himself taking Marcone deeper than was comfortable.As the tempo also increased, Harry had a horrific flash of insight of what was about to happen.

There was a shuddering, shivering pause and Marcone’s grip on Harry’s hair became almost painful.

And then it was over. 

Harry yanked himself back, coughing, spitting and spluttering.He stumbled over himself and ended up in a heap on the floor.The sound of Marcone’s laughter barely registered over the roar of his thoughts. _What the hell had he done?What the hell had he been made to do?_

Harry was so preoccupied with his inner turmoil that he didn’t notice the other man rearrange himself, do up his shirt buttons and produced his tie from his pocket.Marcone was still doing it up when he said, “Why don’t you come back over here?I don’t believe I’ve had the chance to return the favour.” 

Harry wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and all but snarled at the other man. Hestaggered to his feet.“We’re done here, Marcone.   _W_ _e’re done._ ” 

Marcone’s eyes trailed over Harry’s body.He took in the other man’s bare chest, the undone buttons on his jeans.

“Oh, I’m not sure about that.  Why don’t we-”

Suddenly, a sound rang out: a high pitched dial tone.It was quickly followed by a pristine female voice.“Mr Marcone,” it said, “the visitors for your meeting have arrived.”

Harry stared at the other man. _He had a fricking tannoy system?_

Marcone paused for a moment, gave Harry a look that clearly said _this isn’t over_ , before standing and moving over to the far wall.Harry hadn’t noticed it earlier, but there was a discreet panel built into it.He ran a hand through his hair and pressed a button.“Send them up and tell them I will be with them shortly,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” replied the disembodied voice before cutting out.

Marcone’s change in persona was like a shutter coming down.It was back to business.

“Well, it seems that our time is up,” he said.“I’m sure you can find your own way out.”

Harry remained sprawled on the floor, stupefied.Marcone had pencilled him in like a fucking appointment. _7:00pm business meeting.8:00pm molest Harry Dresden..._

Marcone retrieved his jacket, tightened his tie and had his hand on the door handle before Harry remembered his voice.

“ _Wait!_ ”

The man turned to face him, expression quizzical.

“I can’t leave, asshole” he said between gritted teeth, pulling himself to his feet.“You said I can’t go until you give me permission.”

“Ah, then you have my permission to leave.Mr Hendricks will drive you back.

“C _ujo_ can kiss my-”

“You will allow yourself to be driven back to your apartment by Mr Hendricks.I want you to get back in one piece.In your current state you look like anyone, with or without magical talent, would be able to take you out without much effort.”

“Yeah?No thanks to you, _asshole_.” 

Marcone smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.“See you soon, Harry,” he said before shutting the door and leaving the wizard very much alone.

 _See you soon, Harry._ Those words were worse than any curse the other man could have thrown at him.

As the door clicked shut after him, Harry found himself alone in the gilded cage Marcone had constructed for him.As if in a trance, he picked up his blasting rod still propped up by the door.He took in the things around him: the gleaming surfaces, the pictures and the tasteful artistic pieces.The weight of the staff in his hand was reassuring and heavy.He lifted it and, holding it like a club, began to methodically smash every gleaming, expensive piece of shit within sight.He smashed and broke and destroyed until he was surrounded by the glittering debris of Marcone’s bachelor pad.He then pulled on his shirt, picked up his leather duster and left.

Trashing the room didn’t really make him feel any better, but at least it sent a message.Harry Dresden may be John Marcone’s dog, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to eat his fucking leash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that happened. It’s up to you exactly how Harry got all those bite marks. ;)
> 
> Thanks for reading and all the comments and kudos so far. It honestly makes my day!


	5. Castles in the Sky

Marcone stood in the centre of the apartment, taking in the destruction.There was one thing he could say for the wizard: the man was thorough.As he surveyed the room, debris crunched underfoot and he had avoid some particularly jagged patches of broken glass.The drinks cabinet, sadly, was no more.Several broken bottles stared forlornly out at John from where they sat on their lopsided shelves.Despite the chaos, John knew such things could easily be replaced.

After a quick phone call to organise the clean up and redecorating, John sat down on the sofa (after brushing off several shards of glass) and took a moment to reflect.

Harry Dresden was a powerful man.John had seen enough of the other man’s skill to ascertain that Harry was used to a certain level of control.If an obstacle presented itself, the wizard could simply blow it up (this seemed to be the most common method) or use his power to find another way around the issue.Moreover, Harry Dresden was a powerful man with powerful friends.If there was an problem he was unable to resolve himself, one of his many allies undoubtedly could. 

And there was the problem.Harry was a man who was used to power.Power was the one thing the wizard’s current relationship with himself deprived him of: the oath left Dresden powerless.In this particular situation, his magic couldn’t help him and nor could his friends. 

After the events of the previous evening (the memory was accompanied by a tingle of pleasure, one that was quickly suppressed), it was no wonder that Harry felt the only way he could rebel was through a futile gesture such as destroying some rather expensive decor.Not that John particularly cared. He let an interior designer handle all of his aesthetic choices (he had far more important things do than deal with than colour schemes), but... he could see how, if left alone, such violent outbursts could become an issue in the future.A rather expensive one at that.

So, Harry’s feelings of vulnerability had caused him to lash out.The issue was with power. Harry needed power to feel secure.To solve the problem, all Marcone needed to do was give him the illusion of it.

* * *

In the famous words of The Beatles (Paul McCartney, really) “ob-la-di, ob-la-da, life goes on, brah, la la la la, life goes on”.  And it did, life did go on for Harry.

After the events of the evening, Harry thought there was no way he was going to sleep.But sleep he did, right up into mid afternoon the next day.He carried out his duties like clockwork.He let out a disgruntled Mouse, fed a sulking Mister and then hunkered down to review what he would next be teaching Molly.He’d skipped a lot of lessons, and he didn’t feel comfortable missing any more. 

The routine of it was soothing, and he found he was able to cut the events of the previous day from his mind with surprising success.It would jump out at him occasionally, the way an old wound does, suddenly flaring with pain, but he was able to cope with it.The fact that he didn’t hear anything from Marcone for over a week after also helped matters. 

“Out of sight, out of mind, Harry,” he told himself.“ _Out of sight, out of mind_.”

* * *

It was some time the following week.  Harry had just finished up a case.  He thanked God for the good timing - he’d been worried about his ability to pay that month’s rent.

The client had been robbed.Someone had stolen their very new and very expensive car (a Ferrari or a Lamborghini or something else insane) and, as the police had hit a wall with the case, they had turned to other measures.Enter Harry Dresden, wizard and finder of random stuff.

Normally, Harry wouldn’t have had a hope in hell of finding such an item. However, he’d been able to lift some of the original paintwork from where the bad guys had scratched it against a wall during their getaway.With it, he’d been able to track down the car and, with the assistance of Murphy, arrest the crooks and return the car to the original owners.He was expecting a decent pay off and the client should have wired over the money already.

It was with that in mind that he hooked Mouse onto his leash and headed out of the apartment. He could drive to the nearest bank, grab some doughnuts on the way (he could drop some off to Murph, he owed her a thank you) and take Mouse out for a bit of fresh air at the same time. _Perfect._

However, the idyllic nature of Harry’s day was about to come to an abrupt end.

He stood at the ATM and stared at his bank balance.As a rule, Harry was used to small numbers where his bank balance was concerned.Maybe even minus numbers if things were particularly tight.However, Harry was currently looking at a very big number.A _veeeeeery_ big number, and he was momentarily stunned.If he was a Disney character, let’s say Donald Duck, little dollar symbols would be flashing in his eyes right now.

Could his magic be messing with the ATM?He drove to the nearest machine and was faced with the same number. _Huh..._

Confused, he walked to the nearest pay phone and, using the scrap of paper the number was written on, called up his client (the person with the insane car) to check whether they had debited him the wrong amount.They were at first confused then offended - _of course they had sent him the right amount, was he asking for more money from them?_ Harry put down the phone, still as confused as he’d been before he had made the call.

So, how had a bucketload of money mysteriously appeared in his account? Who did he know with that kind of cash?

There were two people who sprung to mind: Lara Raith and Johnny Bastard Marcone.Out of the two, there was only one real suspect.

* * *

“So, _John_ , is there anything you want to tell me?”

“Is there a point to this phone call or do you just want us to ask each other vague questions for half an hour?Unlike some, Harry, I’m a busy man.”

Harry wished he could punch the other man through the phone receiver.

“Well, there’s a lot of money in my account, money I can’t trace, and I just wanted to know if it’s got your fingerprints all over it.”

There was a pause.

“You know, you could just say thank you.”

“You _bastard_!I’ll tell you what you can do with your dirty money, _you-_ ”

“Look, I had someone in accounts send it over.I thought you could use it to buy some new clothes or perhaps a new car.You may not be aware, but most adults have more than three shirts to choose from and have cars that are actually mobile most of the time.”

“There’s not anything wrong with-!I’m sending it right back, _bastard_!It’ll take a lot more than your dirty money to-”

Marcone’s voice cut coolly over his.“If you want to send it back, you can’t.I already pulled a few strings to have it sent to you off the record.If you try and send it back, it may raise a few unpleasant questions for you.”

“I don’t care!No one can buy me off, not even-”

“And I believe this conversation is over.Goodbye, Harry.”

The line went dead.

Harry sat in stunned silence.What an _insufferable_ -!How could Marcone be _so- so-_?Words failed him.Anger generally isn’t good for eloquence. 

He was half tempted to withdraw the whole amount and set up a cash bonfire in front of Marcone’s office building.Now that was a pleasing thought. He had only been tempted to actually use the money for himself for a slither of a moment: he’d spent years living a hand to mouth existence, the sudden idea of lavish wealth had lost appeal by now.To Harry, wealth was like a mythical creature: distant, unattainable and, above all, imaginary.The simile lost a lot of its power in the fact that a lot of mythical creatures were actually real, but the idea still stood.

It took several moments before another idea slunk into Harry’s brain. 

A sly smile spread across his features.Forget the cash bonfire, _he had a better idea_.

* * *

Time passed (ob-la-di, ob-la-da, etc.) and, after the incident with the money, things with Marcone went comfortably silent.  He resumed lessons with Molly and got back in touch with Thomas and Murphy.  Michael was equally keen to see him (presumably to check he was still alive) and Harry found himself a regular visitor at the Carpenter’s dinner table.  Being sat in the middle of the happy chaos of family was comforting, and he appreciated Michael’s kindness.

It was one such evening.Just before they settled down to eat, that Michael took Harry to one side.

“Harry, how are things?”

With some people, that would have been a throw away statement - a polite bit of small talk.Not with Michael.As the knight of the cross looked at Harry, the sincere concern was clear on his face.

“I’m alright,” Harry managed, avoiding the other man’s earnest gaze.“Life’s thrown me a bit of a curve ball, but I’m managing it.”

Michael nodded, but didn’t look convinced.“Are you sure you’re ‘managing it’?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”He shifted his tone to one of ridiculous bravado, straight out of a kids’ film.“It takes more than mere mortal issues to distress the mighty wizard Dresden!”

The knight’s deadpan expression said that he saw through the act. 

“Okay,” he said.“Just remember that, if you ever need it, I’m here for you.”The words were accompanied with a brief squeeze on Harry’s shoulder.

As a self declared ‘manly man’, Harry generally didn’t hug.Men didn’t hug, they had far too much testosterone for it.Men were far too busy drinking copious amounts of beer and fighting for hugs.

Despite all that, he could have hugged Michael right then and there.

Harry found himself surprisingly choked up.“Yeah,” he managed.“Thanks, Michael.”

* * *

They were all sat around the dinner table.  It was a large table for a large family and Harry found endless amusement in watching the different Carpenter offspring laugh, chatter and squabble.  It was also interesting seeing how Molly was different around her family.  She seemed so much younger.

They were just about to start dessert (one of Charity’s culinary masterpieces) when he noticed that Michael’s attention had drifted from the table.He was staring intently out of the window, expression grim.

A black car, _a nauseatingly familiar black car_ , had pulled up outside of the Carpenter household. The engine was running, he could hear the low hum of it, but the car wasn’t moving.

Harry made eye contact with his friend and gave a brief shake of his head.He then made a couple of half baked excuses before standing up from the dinner table and heading for the entrance hall.Michael followed.

“Are we in any danger?” Michael asked when they were away from the dining room.“I’ll go and get Amoracchius.”

“Your family aren’t in in any danger - I’ll deal with it,” Harry said.“Go back to your family.I’ll be back in a minute.”

Michael looked at him, expression serious.“You do realise that, less than an hour ago, I told you that I’m here for you.Are you sure that you don’t need my help?”

“I’m sure.Thanks, Michael, but I’ve got this.”

Before the knight could respond, Harry was out of the front door and striding towards the car.

A warm feeling of rage rose in his gut. _How dare he come here?How dare he come to his friend’s house?_

He got to the back passenger door, yanked it open and slammed it shut after him.

“You do realise the only reason I haven’t blown out all your tyres is because it would stop you from driving the fuck away.”

“Nice to see you too, Harry.”

Marcone’s calm was infuriating.

“Cut the fucking niceties,” Harry snarled.“You are at my friend’s house - our agreement - whatever the fuck that is, does not give you the right to bring my friends into this.”

There was silence for a moment.Harry’s fluctuating emotions had already begun to play havoc with the car’s electronics.The AC had already cut out with a whirr and he could see Cujo up front fiddling with the now jarring radio.

“I’m sorry, Harry.I tried to contact your apartment, but you weren’t there,” Marcone’s voice was still calm, but surprisingly sincere.“I know of your close connection with the Carpenter family, so I thought I’d find you here.Again, I apologise for coming to your friend’s home.”

Harry had to double take.Marcone had apologised to him?Marcone had apologised to him twice? _Was this an omen for the end of the world?_

“There’s something I’d like you to look into,” Marcone continued.“Several of my employees from executive priority have been hurt.We’ve started a new home visit service,” Harry snorted, but Marcone ignored it, “and several have been...injured during call outs to clients.Not in a physical sense, though, ‘drained’ would probably be a better word.Gard suspects the involvement of the White Court.It is hardly a matter I can ask the police to help with and I am aware of your connections with the White Court vampires.I’d appreciate it if you could look into it.”

Harry’s temper cooled slightly.Supernatural bad guys running rampant? _This was his territory_.

“The White Court?Why the hell would they get involved with your business?Have you pissed off any vampires recently?”

Marcone shook his head.“Competition, perhaps?I’m aware that they’ve got the adult entertainment industry cornered.Perhaps they didn’t take issue with the previous Velvet Room because it was run by a fellow vampire?”

“The Velvet Room was run by a vampire of the Red Court, so they’re not exactly ‘best buds’.Something’s weird here - it’s not like them to be so obvious.”

“Perhaps they didn’t think they were being obvious.Remember, I’m a ‘vanilla’ mortal, Harry.They probably didn’t think I’d suspect anything.”

Harry didn’t say anything.He was thinking.

Marcone filled the silence.“Well, I’ll have all the relevant information sent to you as well as the contact details of the victims. I’m sure it will help with your investigation.”

This time, Harry did say something.

“You know, _John_ , I haven’t said whether I’ll help or not.”

They locked gazes for a moment.Harry’s expression was firm, Marcone’s carefully blank.Harry had to work hard to suppress the memories of the last time he’d been in such close proximity to the other man.

To Harry’s surprise, Marcone was the first to crack. 

He looked away and sighed.“This isn’t part of our contract,” he said.“This is me employing you as a private investigator to stop any more of my employees being hurt.They shouldn’t be hurt because of some grudge they know nothing about.I will pay your normal rate and would be grateful if you resolved the matter before anyone else is affected.There have been no deaths, not yet, and I want to keep it that way.”

“Yeah.You must be concerned about all the business you’re likely to lose.”Harry knew it was a cheap shot when he said it.

Marcone said nothing.

“I’ll...” A pause.“ _Damn it._ I’ll look into it. Okay?And you know my rate.Don’t think you don’t have to pay me after that crazy amount of money you sent me.”

“Good.”The other man didn’t thank him.He already knew the kind of reception that would get.“I’ll make sure the relevant information gets to you as soon as possible.And as for the money I sent you, has it been put to good use?I see that your fashion sense remains unchanged.”

Silence.

“Right,” said Marcone, tone professional, “as our last matter of business for the evening, do not move, Harry. _That’s an order._ ”

 _Damn it._ Harry had allowed himself to be lured into a false sense of security by all the business talk.The events of that evening, the evening where Marcone had broken down his barriers and played with him like a fucking toy came flooding back to him in vivid detail.But...his word meant that he had to follow Marcone’s orders.

Harry froze in place, reluctantly obeying Marcone.The car was getting hot (the sad demise of the AC saw to that) and a single bead of sweat trickled down his brow.

Marcone moved next to him, close to him.He wrapped his arm around Harry’s shoulders and pressed his mouth close to the wizard’s ear, presumably to stop Hendricks from overhearing.From where Harry was sat, he could see that Hendricks was very pointedly fiddling with the radio.The tips of his ears were tinged pink.

“You know, it was a shame that we couldn’t finish last time.I still owe you some attention.”As Marcone spoke, he trailed a hand up Harry’s thigh, coming dangerously close to his crotch.“Why don’t we fix that?” 

The hand moved even higher and pressed down.To Harry’s horror, he felt a sudden intense pulse of warmth and even pleasure at the contact.Not for the first time, Harry was convinced that men really kept their brains just below their fucking belts.

And, damn it all, Marcone noticed Harry’s treacherous response. 

He laughed gently.“Can I take that as a yes?”

Harry fought to keep his voice steady and low.“No, Marcone.It’s a definite _no_.You may not have noticed, but I was actually in the fucking middle of dinner with my _friends_ when you showed up.”

Amazingly, the other man backed off.The hand was gone and Harry was blissfully given his personal space once again.

“You’re right, I suppose,” he sighed.“Some other time then.You’re free to move.”

But before Harry could even spit out a ‘fuck you’, Marcone had darted forward and placed a kiss on his cheek.The man had the speed of a fucking snake.

Harry spluttered and pulled back.He yanked open the car door and all but jumped out of the car.

“You know, Harry,” Marcone called after him, “I’d like it if we could have a more cooperative relationship.”

Harry’s response wasn’t witty, but it would do.He said, “Go fuck yourself,” and slammed the car door shut.

He turned back towards the Carpenter’s house, running a hand through his hair.Life had suddenly become much more complicated.Things hadn’t exactly been simple before, either..

He looked up and, to his surprise, locked eyes with Michael.As Marcone’s car pulled away, they surveyed each other in silence. 

So, Michael had been stood on the porch watching the whole time.He would only have heard the last bit of his conversation with dark lord Johnny Marcone, but that didn’t quell Harry’s anxiety.How would his friend feel, seeing him converse with the biggest scumbag in Chicago?He also felt a sudden wave of gratitude for the fact that Marcone’s car had tinted windows.Harry imagined that Michael wouldn’t exactly be overjoyed to observe see the level of intimacy Marcone liked to have with Harry.It must have been bad enough for Hendricks. Michael probably would have come diving into the car with Amoracchius ready to defend Harry’s virtue.

The walk back to the house felt five times longer than usual.He stopped when he was in front of his friend. 

“Michael, I-”

“You don’t need to explain, Harry.”

“But Michael, that wasn’t-”

“I _know_ , Harry.And don’t think that I’m spying on you.Molly was very curious as to where you were going and, as much as I love my daughter, I know that she sometimes lets her curiosity get the better of her.I thought I’d better see that she didn’t try and check on you.”He paused for a moment. “I want you to know that I trust you and,” a slightly pained look crossed his face, “even if your work makes you forge some strange alliances, I still trust you.I’ll always trust you.I just wanted you to know that.”

And the knight looked away from him, obviously embarrassed. 

Harry could have cried.Again, how could he ever be worthy of a friend such as Michael? 

Harry couldn’t really put feelings into words.He didn’t have to.‘Screw drinking copious amounts of beer and fighting.Screw being manly,’ he thought before throwing his arms around the other man and giving him a crushing bear hug. 

They stood like that in the doorway for several long moments before heading back in to the warmth and the light of the Carpenter home.

* * *

Looking in the rear view mirror, Marcone observed Harry and Michael’s embrace with a slight frown. _Irritating_.

“Sir?”It was Hendricks.He had finally built up the courage to ask his employer a question.

“Yes, Mr Hendricks?”

“Didn’t you- Erm- Didn’t you have a meeting with a vampire from the white court?Just over a week ago?” 

That was right.Hendricks and Gard had been in the room for the meeting.Marcone wasn’t willing to subject himself to White Court interference, so he had taken necessary precautions.

“It’s just that...” There was a pause, Hendricks was clearly using his limited arts of diplomacy to phrase himself in a way least likely to piss off his boss.“It’s just that it didn’t seem like they were set against you.You were talking about a new business venture with them.”

“And your point is?” John allowed a slither of ice to enter his tone.Yes, Hendricks was demonstrating skills of deduction he had hitherto presumed were beyond the red headed man, but he wasn’t going to allow himself to be questioned by his employees.

Hendricks got the message.

“Nothing, sir.Sorry I mentioned it.”

* * *

“Harry! _What the hell-_ ”

“Hiya Murph!”

“You sneaky _son of a bitch_!Why the hell are you in the newspaper?”

“Oh, that.”

“Don’t ‘Oh that’ me!I’ve had cop after cop asking me how you, a seemingly down on his luck P.I., was able to donate thousands, and I mean _thousands and thousands_ , of dollars to a charity supporting drug users! There’s a photo and everything!Where the hell did you, a man driving a car that may as well be from the last _century_ , find that kind of money?”

“Oh, you know me, Murph, ever the philanthropist.”

“Philanthropist _my ass_!We are going to discuss this, Dresden.I’ll meet you in McAnally's later and, due to your new found wealth, _you_ are buying.”

And Murphy put the phone down on him.Harry would have been hurt, but he was too busy laughing.

He had a copy of the paper open in front of him.The photo wasn’t great, Harry had never been particularly photogenic, but it would do.Generous Donation for Drug Afflicted was the title, not exactly catchy, but then it wasn’t exactly front page news.

Yes, Harry had found a good use for Marcone’s money.He’d already sent a copy of the newspaper over to the man’s office.Maybe Marcone would find it as funny as he did?He didn’t think so, but that was the best part. 

And for the first time in what felt like weeks, Harry let himself really smile.He called Mouse over, clipped on his leash, and stepped out for an early evening walk. 

_Perfection_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader: So, AloeAloe, that’s a pretty quick update for you. Don’t you have any better things to do with your life?
> 
> AA: AloeAloe has been ill. AloeAloe has been able to do little else than sit on her ass and type. AloeAloe wants to go outside again...
> 
> Reader: Right... Well, you seem to have-
> 
> AA: ... and it’s been so boring, so very boring. AloeAloe wants to go outside, climb trees and build little forts out of branches! AloeAloe will then fill these little forts with-
> 
> Reader: MOVING ON (fricking weirdo), you seem to have been giving Michael a lot more love than Marcone in this chapter. Did you get the pairing wrong or something?
> 
> AA: No! If it was up to AloeAloe, The Dresden Files would be renamed The Carpenter Files and it would be about Michael giving Harry piggyback rides all over Chicago. They would fight evil with the power of love and, apart from Harry, every character would be a middle aged man.
> 
> Reader:...
> 
> AA: Power of love?
> 
> Reader:...


	6. Into the Fire

To announce his presence, Hendricks knocked twice on the polished wood of the door.He then entered the room.He carried several sheets of paper containing the minutia of Harry Dresden’s daily activities, ready and waiting to be shared with his boss.It was a well established routine, one that he had done every day over the course of years, and Hendricks had gotten so used to it that it almost didn’t make him uncomfortable. _Almost_.

Now standing in John Marcone’s personal office, he took in the familiar surroundings.Everything was as it had been yesterday, the day before that and countless days before.However, one detail was different.It jarred with Hendricks’ expectations and his confident stride faltered.

Johnny Marcone, crime lord extraordinaire, rather than pouring over paper work, reviewing spreadsheets or giving orders over the phone, was sat at the desk with a newspaper in front of him.This in itself was unusual - Hendricks had never seen his boss read the paper before.More unusual was the fact that a beaming Harry Dresden stared out from the open page, holding one of those oversized checks so common in charity events or lottery pay outs. 

Before Hendricks had the time to fully process what he was seeing, Marcone briskly closed the paper and swept it to one side. _Was it his imagination, or had the boss been smiling while he looked at the paper?_

Marcone’s voice, however, was crisp and to the point as always.“Your report, Mr Hendricks?”

“Sir,” Hendricks dipped his head in a quick greeting and looked down at his paperwork, “it seems that Dresden’s been more active than normal.As well as his routine P.I. work, he’s been in touch with some high profile vampires from the White Court.It looks like he’s pursuing the case you gave him.”

“Interesting” said Marcone, expression neutral.“And who has our Mr Dresden been in contact with?”

Hendricks paused. _Our Mr Dresden?_ His last run in with the wizard confirmed that he and the wizard got on best when they were on opposite sides of the city, possibly opposite sides of the _country_.Dresden was Marcone’s pet - he would rather get a goldfish like everyone else.

Marcone gave him a meaningful look and he swiftly retuned to his report.

He scanned the page, identifying the relevant information.“Just after 11:00am he visited the scene of one of the attacks.After spending around thirty minutes there, he then moved on to visit the Raith estate - the White Court’s defacto base.He left around an hour later to visit what appears to be,” Hendricks paused briefly, surprised, “a _hair salon_ run by Thomas Raith, another vampire.It was a quick visit, only around fifteen minutes, but he seems to be trying to gather information.”

“I see,” Marcone said.“Any other significant incidents?” 

“Well,” Hendricks said, turning another page, “it isn’t related to the White Court, but at around 20:15pm he met with Karen Murphy at a bar: McAnally’s.”

He was going to finish there, but a slight crease had formed between his boss’ brows.Compared to the amount of emotion his boss normally showed, he may as well have flipped the desk over. 

Hendricks hurriedly added, “They stayed for just over an hour and left _separately_.”He placed a slight emphasis on the final word, hoping to appease his boss.

It worked.The frown disappeared and Hendricks heaved an internal sigh of relief. 

Nowadays, the reports always left him on edge.Since his boss had gotten so... _involved_ with the wizard (he rapidly suppressed a memory of the goings on he had unwillingly witnessed in the car), things were complicated.He never thought Marcone, a man normally as emotional as a slab of granite, could be jealous.In a way, it was fascinating.In another way,it was scary as hell.Hendricks knew what the man was capable of when perfectly calm.He did _not_ want to know what happened when he was pissed off because some wizard was more romantically interested in petite blondes in uniform than crime lords.

Why couldn’t the boss do what normal people did and take the man out to dinner?Get dinner, get laid - easy.Stalking, manipulating and dragging sex crazed vampires into the whole mess was just... _weird_.

Once again, his employer’s voice cut him from his reverie.“Good.Thank you, Mr Hendricks.”

Happily, he was about to take that as his cue to leave, but the man continued speaking.

“I notice that _this_ ,” Marcone gestured towards the newspaper on his desk, and Hendricks was reminded of that smiling photo of Dresden that he had briefly seen, “wasn’t included in the report.”There was a pause.Sweat began to bead on Hendricks’ forehead and upper lip.“See to it that there are not such gaps in future.”

The temperature in the room dropped by a couple of degrees.

“Yes, sir,” the bodyguard managed to force out.“I-I’ll see to it.”

“Excellent,” Marcone turned his attention to some paperwork on the desk.“That will be all.”

Hendricks nearly tripped over himself in his haste to exit the room.He felt a sudden, powerful wave of nostalgia for the simple days before the Harry Dresden bomb had detonated and shattered his peace and quiet...

The door swung shut behind him, closing with a click.

Once the other man had gone, Marcone allowed himself to sit back in his chair.He pulled the newspaper back to him and flipped it open.His gaze was once again met with a photo of a grinning Harry Dresden. 

Despite the fact it was a terrible photo (the lighting was all wrong and Harry wasn’t looking at the camera, probably worried about breaking it), he wanted to frame the thing. 

A smile tugged at Marcone’s lips.The wizard obviously thought that this act of rebellion would infuriate him, but the opposite was in fact true.Marcone wanted Harry, Harry wanted freedom, and freedom was the one thing Marcone couldn’t give him right now.Things were difficult between them because Dresden instinctually fought against any form of control. 

However, John only viewed Harry’s rebellious streak as a short term problem. 

Marcone wasn’t the leader of a sprawling criminal organisation by chance: he was well versed in the subtle art of manipulation.Put a dog on a long enough leash, and soon it will forget about the leash altogether.  All that’s left to do then is gradually reel it in.As glorified animals, the same rule applied to humans. 

Still smiling, Marcone reached for the phone on his desk.He dialled a number and, after a couple of rings, a familiar voice answered.

“Dresden.”

“Hello, Harry.”

There was a long pause.Marcone could imagine the other man’s displeased frown perfectly.His smile deepened.

“John.”Dresden said his name like it was an insult.“What do you want?”

“As unbelievable as it may seem,” he said, “I actually do have a reason to call other than to enjoy your unparalleled conversational skill.What progress have you made on our vampire problem?”

The line crackled slightly, probably as a result of the wizard’s annoyance.

“From what I’ve been able to work out,” Harry’s voice was slightly forced, “your White Court vampire attacker is a lone wolf.As a group they’re slippery as hell, but I don’t think the actual White Court are actively taking steps against you.Maybe you managed to piss one of them off or they decided your Executive Priority girls make easy meals.”

“I see.And the culprit?”

“I don’t know for who it is for certain, but I’ve been able to pin down their approximate location.”He gave the name of the area and road.“Some hair was left at the scene of the last attack and I used it to track down our perp.I’m planning on dealing with the vamp before he gets any more ideas.”

“Good,” Marcone said.“I’ll arrange a back up team to support you.”

“Not necessary.From what I can guess, they’re small fry.And it’s a residential area - any of your guys waving guns around just get in the way and the police called.”

Marcone didn’t miss a beat.

“Understood.Ideally, I want them left alive.There’s no point antagonising the White Court with a body of one of their own, but be sure to send a message.When you’re done, send the invoice over to our finance department. I’ll make sure your payment is prompt.”

A delicious silence followed.Marcone could practically taste the wizard’s inner conflict. _Save the innocent, but be paid off by a criminal to do it..?_

He decided to push a little more. _Why not?_

“Also, why don’t we have dinner to celebrate?I happen to have opened a new restaurant and I thought you may want to try it. Presuming you survive your vampire encounter, how about Thursday?  This is an offer, not an order.”

This time, there was no pause before Harry’s response.

“John?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“The day I have a dinner date with you,” he said, “is the day hell freezes over.” 

And the line went dead.

* * *

It was late afternoon now, pushing into evening. Harry sat on the porch of an expensive Victorian house, clothing drenched in blood.To anyone paying close attention, they would notice that the blood was slightly paler than that of normal humans and it shimmered slightly.However, no one was paying attention.Luckily for Harry, the house was set far back from the road.If it hadn’t been, one of the neighbours would have doubtlessly called the cops by now.That would have been Bad (note the capital).Harry was in enough trouble as it was, and sirens, flashing lights and a swarm of cops would have only made the whole thing worse.

The trouble that Harry was in boiled down to one main ingredient: White Court vampire blood.He was covered in the stuff and it looked like he had come straight from the set of a horror b-movie.That, or a homicide.One day, he dreamed that he would finally get a case that would be an easy job, the proverbial ‘walk in the park’.Today was not that day: not only had he just got in a fist fight with a God damned vampire, but he had gotten drenched in one of the potent aphrodisiacs known to the magical world. 

His skin already begun to tingle and he could feel himself becoming woozy - a warm fuzzy sensation juxtaposed with his annoyance at his own stupidity.He hadn’t brought anything with him to counteract the properties of White Court blood and the effects were already catching up with him. _Stupid, Harry, stupid..._

So, what did he get for trying to save some innocent (he used the term loosely) high class hookers from becoming vampire food?Nothing but trouble, that’s what.

Following his tracking spell, he had found the vampire’s location and pulled up on the opposite side of the street.Although he loved the blue beetle, there were times he wished it was slightly more inconspicuous. His multicoloured, banged up dinosaur of a car screamed ‘look at me, look at me!I’m _suspicious_!’Thankfully, as the house was in a fancy area and had a long drive, it hadn’t been likely that he would be spotted. 

Upon investigating the house, he discovered it had a surprisingly strong ward. _Bad news._ The vampire must have either brainwashed or seduced the rightful owners into taking over the property - a theory he later confirmed when he discovered the unconscious (but otherwise healthy) owners in the basement. 

Knowing that there were people at risk, he couldn’t follow through with his initial plan to wait the vampire out and simply blast it as soon as it left the building.He had to force his way past the wards (he broke the window of the back door and entered that way) and it meant that his magic was severely limited.To reiterate, his magic was severely limited while the vampire was as at full power. _Shit._ Thankfully, he had his revolver, blasting rod (which also doubled as a handy club) and his duster, but that didn’t mean he was any match for a vampire. 

His sense of foreboding had been justified when exploring upstairs.He’d been just about to open a door when the vampire flew at him with superhuman speed.God, the thing was _fast_.It moved like liquid mercury and he barely had time to point his gun at the thing, let alone aim, before it was on him.

Miraculously, the shot connected.He hit it in the upper arm.However, it just yowled and kept coming at him.

They wrestled, falling to the floor in a heap.At that point, Harry was stunned he was still alive.As a rule, vampires were strong - insanely strong.He had seen Thomas bend metal like it was rubber.So, why hadn’t this vampire simply ripped his head off and had done with it?Perhaps the blood loss from the gunshot wound had weakened it?

As they struggled, Harry ended up drenched in the blood flowing freely from the creature’s wound.After what felt like hours, but realistically could have lasted only minutes, Harry ended up on top, gun pressed to the monster’s temple.

Exhausted and already feeling slightly light headed, he cut to the chase.

“ _Look_ ,” he said, voice breathy after all the exertion, “I should probably do a whole lot more digging, but at this point I don’t particularly care.So, let me make things simple for you.I am a _wizard_ \- a wizard currently covered it your _blood_.Nod if your understand.”

With the gun still pressed against its temple, the vampire gave a jerky little nod.

“ _Good_.Now, as a wizard, I can use that blood in a whole range of nasty, _nasty_ spells that could end your miserable excuse of a life in an instant. Or, I could get _mean_ and end your miserable excuse for a life really, _really_ slowly.Would you like me to do that?”

The vampire stared up at him in mute, horrified silence.

“I _asked_ ,” Harry jabbed the gun against the monster’s forehead for emphasis, “if you would like that.”

“N-no!I- I wouldn’t!” It all but shrieked at Harry, voice high from fear.

“ _Good_ ,” Harry stretched out the vowel sound, trying his best to look as threatening as possible - he was bluffing ,of course, so it was all about the delivery. “So, remember that if you try any of that shit with the girls from Executive Priority, or anyone else in Chicago, you’ll be dealing with me.And I have your _blood_ , asshole.Understood?”

The vampire tried to nod in agreement, but it was impeded slightly by the gun.

“Good,” Harry said, pulling himself away.“Now get out of my sight.”

And the vampire rushed from the building, clutching its wounded arm as it fled from him.

And that was the tale of how the mighty wizard, Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden, came to be sat on a porch covered in one of the most potent aphrodisiacs of the magical world.Life’s a bitch and then it covers you in magical sex blood.Conclusion: life’s a _pervy_  fucking bitch.

Sighing, he dragged himself to his feet. He’d need to get back to his apartment before he began throwing himself at anyone and anything.It didn’t help that the hypersensitivity that came with the blood was accompanied by a dizziness that left him in doubt of his ability to drive safely.Run over multiple pedestrians whilst sporting a hard on you could cut diamonds with?He did _not_ want to cross that one off from his bucket list...

As he walked to his car, his pants felt uncomfortably tight on his crotch and his pulse pounded away in his ears.The dizziness increased.

Finally, the road came into view along with the familiar sight of the blue beetle and-

“Oh, _hell no!_ ”

Next to the blue beetle, another car had pulled up.It was sleek, black and he had seen it several days before at the Carpenter household. The back door opened and a man in a sleek black suit exited the car.

“Well, it looks like I missed the party.”

Harry tried to storm passed him, but it was difficult in his current ‘condition’.

“Fuck off, Marcone.I’m going home.”

The other man was completely unfazed.If he noticed Harry’s current state, he didn’t let on.

“Harry, don’t be unreasonable.You look like you can barely stand and appear to be covered in blood.Do you really need for me to explain why driving would be a bad idea?”

As Marcone spoke, the world began to tilt and sway for Harry, like he was on a boat in rough weather.His vision began to blur too and the blue beetle became an indistinct multicoloured blob.Irritatingly, this did nothing to abate the tightness in the front of his jeans. _Stupid vampires and their stupid fucking blood..._

“Harry?”

He must have just been standing there, swaying, because the next thing he felt was a hand on his arm.The sensation of it went through him like an electric shock. 

As his vision went dark, he felt someone, presumably Marcone, catch him in their arms.In normal circumstances, this would have infuriated Harry.However, as a blood covered mess, he was fuzzily aware that he had just ruined one of Marcone’s suits.

‘Suck on that, _asshole_ ,’ he thought as he blissfully lost consciousness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as someone used to British English, using American English has been surprisingly hard. I get that the language is pretty much the same apart from a few spellings and the odd few words, but I still find using the word ‘pants’ instead of ‘trousers’ very, very odd. Is ‘trousers’ even a word in America, or is ‘pants’ the king of lower body clothing? As someone who has always imagined ‘pants’ as being very firmly beneath ‘trousers’, the use of it always gives me the amusing image of the characters hanging around chatting in their underwear. Not that that’s necessarily a bad thing. ;)
> 
> The next chapter should be the last - I was meant to round things up here, but my word count always balloons beyond my control. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading and any comments or kudos.


	7. Hunter’s Lullaby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: As we all know, non-con is fun in fiction, not in reality.  Also, I am well aware that (considering that in the real world there’s no such thing as magical wizard STD immunity) Marcone’s comments about ‘protection’ are full of crap.  I wanted to include a condom conversation as these are so rare in fics but not so in real life.
> 
> That aside, enjoy!  If this chapter was marked on an old fashioned map, it would be labelled with ‘here be dragons’.

Harry was in that special place between waking and sleeping where everything is warm, fuzzy and the line between dream and reality are just slightly blurred.A prevailing sense of comfort overwhelmed his senses.This in itself was unusual - Harry’s mattress was small, old and cheap.Loose springs poked and prodded at him constantly, but no such springs poked and prodded at him now. 

Also, he wasn’t alone: someone was stroking his hair.It was a pleasurable sensation, made more enjoyable from the fact that he hadn’t had a lover run their hands through his hair in a very, very long time.‘Susan?’ his sleep addled brain provided.But that wasn’t right, he hadn’t seen Susan for-

Harry’s eyes snapped open.

He was met with the sight of a bedroom, a bedroom that was about as far away in decor and atmosphere and general ‘bedroominess’ from his own as physically possible.Where his bedroom was cramped, this one was spacious.Where his bedroom had little in it other than (surprise) a bed, this one was was expensively but not ostentatiously furnished.If this room was the prize poodle at the dog show, his was the mangy mutt eating from the bins out the back.

To confirm Harry’s suspicions, the ‘Dark Lord’ himself, Johnny Marcone, sat on one side of the bed.He wasstroking Harry’s hair.

The image was such a strange one that it took Harry’s brain a couple of moments to process what was going on.

“W-what the fuck?” he spluttered, jerking himself into a sitting position and scooting backwards so that he was pressed against the headboard. 

As if shielding himself from Marcone’s gaze, he grabbed the crisp sheets and pulled them up to his chin.He was confused, mortified and confused all over again - perhaps the vampire blood was still fogging his senses?It didn’t help that Marcone simply gave that mirthless laugh of his in response to Harry’s obvious horror.

“Well, I can see that you’re back to your normal articulate self.You’ve been out for a few hours.I trust you slept well?”

Ignoring Marcone (life was generally easier that way), Harry took a peek beneath the sheets.He was dressed in a voluminous black t-shirt that was far, far too big for him and (he had to raise the t-shirt to see) what seemed to be a pair of designer boxer shorts probably worth more than his monthly rent.The rest of his clothes were nowhere to be seen.

“What the fuck is going on?” Harry snarled, glaring at the other man.“Why am I here?Where is my stuff and _what the fuck am I wearing?_ ”

As always, Marcone’s calm was maddening.

“In response your first question, you passed out and, rather than returning you to that hovel you call home, I decided to bring you here: the apartment you so kindly remodelled for me after your last visit.” he said.“As for your things, your staff is in the other room and your clothes are being dry cleaned.I happen to know a number of establishments that are very good at removing blood stains.”He smiled humorously.“Would you like me to send you the bill afterwards?”

Harry bristled. _The bastard was laughing at him..._

Marcone continued, ignoring the wizard’s obvious anger.“As for what you’re wearing, you have Mr Hendricks to thank for the shirt.Yours was drenched in vampire blood and therefore a positive biohazard.As for the underwear,” Marcone smirked as he continued speaking, “you have me to thank for that.”

A horrified silence followed. 

“You- you bastard!” Harry spluttered, horrified beyond words that not only was he in Johnny Marcone’s bed, but wearing his fucking boxers too.“ _How dare you?!_ What, did you carry me here, strip me and then play dress up with my unconscious body?You _fucking-_ ”

Marcone’s firm voice cut him off.

“Harry, you are a man who is well over six feet tall.Do you really think that I, as strong as I am, single handedly carried you like back to my ‘lair’, undressed you and then took my time, as you put it, playing ‘dress up’ with you?Do you really think that I did all of that?”

“Well, I-”

“I had Mr Hendricks do it.”

“ _What?!_ ”

“I would have been more than happy leaving you where you were on the street, but you seemed quite, how shall I put this, uncomfortable.”Harry clearly read the implication in Marcone’s words and his face suddenly grew uncomfortably hot.The bastard had known exactly what the blood had done to him!“And the fact that those rags you insist on wearing were drenched in highly potent vampire blood made it necessary for them to be removed.Rather than looking for apologies from myself, you should be apologising to my bodyguard.I think he found the whole experience quite distressing.”If Marcone felt a shred of genuine concern for Cujo, Harry couldn’t see it.“Anyway, you looked like you needed the sleep.”

Harry was struck dumb.He had been undressed by Marcone’s fucking pet gorilla. _He had been undressed by..._ Mortification wasn’t a strong enough word.

Marcone continued to speak, intentionally misinterpreting Harry’s silence for worry rather than horror.

“Please don’t concern yourself, Harry,” he said, voice dripping with false sincerity.“I can assure you that Mr Henricks was a perfect gentleman and that your chastity remains intact.”He paused, flashing white teeth at Harry.“I observed the entire process to make sure.”

This, however, did get an immediate response. 

“You _psychotic fuck!_ I’m leaving.”

He threw the covers back and stood up.He was still clearly experiencing the after effects of the vampire blood - his body felt hypersensitive and the sensation of the covers brushing against his bare skin was enough to give him goosebumps.

“Harry, you know I have the ability to simply make you stay, so why not save us both the inconvenience?”

“You know me, John, always happy to be the thorn in your side,” he scanned the room, hoping for a pair of pants to miraculously appear.No such luck.

Despite Harry’s dangerous tone, Marcone remained completely unfazed.“And you plan to make your grand exit into the city of Chicago dressed like that?”

“Well, I’d rather get arrested for public indecency than spend another minute here with you.”

Trying to muster enough dignity as possible in his borrowed boxers and insanely huge shirt (seriously, Cujo’s proportions were super human), he began to stride towards the door.

Suddenly, a hand snaked out and grabbed his own.Instinctively, Harry tried to yank it back, but the other man maintained a tight grip.

Rather than initiate a tug of war, Harry remained still, muscles tense.Marcone moved to stand behind him and Harry could feel the man’s breath feather against the back of his neck.

“I meant what I said before, Harry.I can make this good for you.”Marcone’s palm was warm against his.There must have been some hypersensitivity left over from the blood, because a tingling sensation began to spread up his arm.“I still haven’t returned the favour from last time.”The man’s voice was smooth, a clear invitation.

However, despite the residual effects of the vampire blood, Harry was still very much in control.If Marcone expected him to jump obediently into bed, then he had another thing coming.

“I’ll pass, thanks.I have a whole list of things, like having my kidneys removed with a rusty spoon, that would be better than getting all cosy with you, _John_.”

Marcone continued to speak, ignoring Harry’s words.“I am committed to forming a partnership with you.There is nothing for you to lose in this transaction - I won’t hurt you, I can make this enjoyable for you.Is it so hard to believe that I have your best interests at heart?”As John spoke, he moved his free hand to stroke along the top of Harry’s thigh, dangerously close to his crotch.Harry’s stupid fucking body practically purred with pleasure at the contact.

He got a hold of himself.

“Partnership? What I just heard is that you want me in bed and out of it.”

Marcone pulled Harry round to face him.Despite the intimacy of their current position, Marcone looked the same as always.Those cold money coloured eyes...

“Is that such a bad thing?”

Harry flinched away from his gaze.“Yes, it is.I told you before, I’m not interested in-” He gestured vaguely to Marcone.“I don’t want-” 

Marcone’s voice hardened.

“Then I order you to,” he said, with a terrible finality.

Harry froze.He’d known all along that Marcone was a predator.He’d known it from their first soul gaze.He’d known it from when Marcone entrapped him in their farce of an ‘arrangement’.He’d known it from when Marcone used his new power to make Harry do things with the other man that he really had not fucking wanted to do. 

Due to all of those things, he’d known - he knew - how Marcone operated.Therefore, he would be lying if he said that this new order was a surprise to him...

Marcone continued to speak, tone measured.“I order you to let me do whatever I want to you.As of now, your body belongs to me and I will use it as I please.During this evening, you will not speak unless I ask you a direct question.If I ask you a question, the reply must be the truth.Failure to do so will mean you are in breach of our agreement.Is that understood?”

There was a a moment’s silence.

“Yes, _bastard_.I understand you perfectly.”Harry’s voice was slightly rough: a damn against the torrent of emotions welling up inside of him.Yeah, he had to tell Marcone the truth, but he’d bite off his own tongue before he was polite.

Marcone smiled his wintry smile.“Good.Now, take off that shirt.”

Harry did so, remaining silent as instructedThe fabric fell to the floor with a soft sound. 

He allowed the other man to circle him, appraising him like a prime cut of meat.Marcone reached out and took one of Harry’s hands in his own.The vampire blood had lost most of its power now, but his treacherous body still tingled at the contact.Marcone traced over the rings on his fingers and played idly with the shield bracelet at wrist.He raised Harry’s hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss into the palm, before doing the same to each finger in turn. 

It wasn’t cold in the room, but Harry shivered. 

Once Marcone had finished with his hand, he stepped forward and pulled the other man down into a languorous kiss.When Harry didn’t open his mouth to give him access, Marcone simply pulled back and instructed him to, then continued as he had before.

When Marcone finally pulled away, Harry felt as though his whole body was alive with sensation.He hated the fact that, from his current state of undress, the erection straining against the front of his boxers was clearly visible. _Fucking vampire blood, it had to be..._

Marcone moved to sit on the edge of the bed that Harry had been so recently occupying.He smiled his mirthless smile at Harry, although his green eyes danced with amusement.

“I want you to kneel, Harry.”He indicated to the floor directly in front of him.“Here.”

Harry experienced a sudden, visceral wave of anger.What was he, nothing more than a dog?It was fitting comparison: Marcone had put a collar on him he couldn’t allow himself to disobey. 

Swallowing his pride, Harry knelt in front of the other man.The only way he could convey his anger was through the murderous look he gave the other man.

“Good.”Marcone reached out and cupped Harry’s jaw in his hand, tracing a thumb over his moistened lower lip.“This reminds me of the last time we were in this position.Your performance wasn’t brilliant last time, but you’ll get better with practice.”

‘ _Like fuck I will_ ,’ Harry thought, incensed.But he had to keep the words trapped behind his teeth, bound by the Marcone’s instructions.

To Harry’s horror, the man moved his foot so that it was pressing between Harry’s legs.Marcone was wearing pristine leather shoes along with a fresh suit; Harry was only in boxers.The sensation was pleasurable and agonising in equal measure. 

“I was planning on apologising for being so selfish last time, but it seems like this,” Marcone pressed down slightly, and Harry wasn’t sure if he was biting down a moan or a curse, “has already forgiven me.Don’t worry - this time I will ensure that you receive sufficient attention.”He removed his foot from Harry’s crotch. “Now, touch yourself.”

It took a moment for Harry to catch up with Marcone’s words.He had been unnervingly distracted by the pressure against his groin. _So, Marcone wanted Harry to touch himself, did he?_

Slowly and deliberately, the wizard held a hand out in front of him.He raised his index finger.He then, with painful slowness, pressed the fingertip against his forehead.Is this enough ‘touch’ for you, asshole?

Marcone gave a cold little smile although his eyes narrowed slightly.He leaned forward, cupping Harry’s cheek in his hand.

“If you insist on being obstinate,” he said, voice dangerously soft.“I could describe to you in vivid detail exactly what I want you to do to yourself.Trust me, going along with what I say will be the easier option for you.”He moved back again.“Now, complete the order or risk breaking our agreement.”

And, once again, Harry was at Marcone’s mercy. 

Blood pounding in his ears, he reached down and pressed a hand against the front of his boxers, about to begin-

“Your clothing, take it off.”

Harry bit back a growl. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._ He stood awkwardly.Even though he knew it was an empty gesture, he turned away from the other man as he removed his last piece of clothing.Marcone had already seen it all, but Harry couldn’t bear to look into those pale green coloured eyes as he did it.Once he was done, he turned back and returned to his kneeling position.

Marcone continued to watch him intently.

“Good,” he said.“Now, continue where you left off.

* * *

“So, is this how you normally do it?”

The voice that replied was slightly breathless, but the anger in it was still clear.

“Fuck - you - _yes_.”

“I see.Spread your legs so I can see properly.”There was a pause.“More, Harry.”Another.“ _That’s it_.”

The speaking ceased for a time.The only sound was of the wizard’s movements and heavy gasps and pants.

“Does this feel good, Harry?”

There was a moment when all sound ceased.Once again, invisible chains bound the Harry: _he had to tell the truth._

“Fucking, bastard - _yes_.”

A laugh.A hand stroking dark hair.The slow sound of a zipper being drawn down.

“I thought so.Now, let’s see if you’re any better with your mouth than last time.”A pause.“Remember the agreement, Harry.”A shorter pause, followed by Marcone’s mirthless laugh.“Good.With a little practise and you might even get good at this.And keep your eyes on me - I want to see what you look like when you come.”

* * *

_This was so fucked up._

Harry was still knelt on the floor, although the his right hand and the wooden floor in front of him was dotted with a viscous pearly white liquid.His lips were wet and slightly swollen. He was breathing heavily and the muscles of his neck and back were tense.

Marcone, however, looked as immaculate as ever.It was infuriating.The man had already done up the front of his pants and was smiling down at him.Bastard.

“Come to bed, Harry.”

Feeling as though he was about to get in bed with the devil himself, he moved to stand.However, his vision wavered and he was unsteady on his feet.Probably a combination of the side effects of blood and the fact that he had just-

Harry cut off his thought track before it could reach its conclusion.He’d process all this shit later, when he could think straight again. 

Marcone, noticing Harry’s unsteadiness, stood and pulled the other man to him.He pressed their lips together in a kiss, probing Harry’s lips with his tongue.Harry, too exhausted to protest, simply let Marcone do what he wanted.As much as he hated to admit it, it did feel good.Harry had been starved of physical attention for so long, and here was Marcone piling it upon him.However, Harry had begun to feel slightly removed from what he was doing - what was being done to him - as if he was back in that blissful twilight between sleep and wakefulness.

Gently, Marcone took Harry by the hand and led him onto the bed.Harry simply lay there, watching as Marcone, who was still standing, leisurely removed his shoes, his necktie and then his shirt.The man’s chest and back were toned with muscle, a couple of pale lines of scars standing out against the smooth skin.

Marcone took a tube from the bedside table - Harry couldn’t see what it was, although he could make a good guess - and then moved to join him on the bed.He ran a hand along Harry’s torso, skimming it down to the top of his thighs.

Marcone took a long, slow look at dark haired man.“Get on all fours for me,” he said.

And Harry did so, his mind a careful blank.It was easier that way, simply experiencing what was being done to him, what was about to be done to him, by a man he’d always sworn he’d eventually destroy. 

He heard Marcone move behind him and felt the bed dip under his weight.A finger then pressed against his entrance.Despite his decision to stay removed from what was happening, he couldn’t help but tense at the sensation and flinch away.

Behind him, Marcone clicked his tongue in frustration.“I said I wouldn’t hurt you, and I intend to keep my word.You need to relax.”

Harry tried to, although his mouth felt suddenly dry and his pulse was beating out a nervous rhythm in his ears.

The pressure against him returned, and Harry couldn’t help but gasp when Marcone’s finger slipped inside.He’d obviously used something to make the process more slick than usual, but Harry still grit his teeth and pushed his face down into the bed covers.

“If only you were always this compliant.”Did Marcone sound slightly breathless?Harry wasn’t sure.“This must be a new world record for Harry Dresden doing what he’s been told.”

Despite his inability to snap back, the man’s orders saw to that, he turned and glared fiercely at the other man.However, Marcone took this as an opportunity to slip another finger inside the wizard, shattering his fearsome visage.

It felt...strange.The residual effect of the blood seemed to have made him much more susceptible to any form of pleasure. At least, that’s what Harry told himself.Of course, there was no way that under _normal circumstances_ a bastard like Marcone would be able to reduce him to a panting, trembling state... 

It was at that point that Marcone pressed against something inside Harry that made him see stars.He gasped and moaned into the bed sheets, sweat glistening on his pale skin.

The fingers suddenly withdrew.Harry simply remained as he had been, any thoughts or concerns swept away by the tide of sensation.

Vaguely, Harry heard Marcone moving behind him.A hand moved to rest on his hips, holding him in position.

“Normally, I would use protection.But I’m in perfect health and am aware of wizards’ immunity to different human ailments. Anyway, you’ve hardly had enough partners to warrant real concern.”

Again, Harry was forced to bite back an angry reply, but this irritation was swiftly transformed into a moan as Marcone reached around and him and caressed his aching length.

There was a pressure at his entrance.It was hot and wet and insistent.

“Are you ready?”

Having been asked a direct question, Harry was once again able to speak.“Fuck you - no,” he snarled, trying to sound as threatening as he could whilst being laid out like a banquet in front of his worst enemy.

“Too bad,” Marcone said, and pushed inside.

* * *

After what realistically could have only been minutes but felt like hours, Harry finally felt like he was getting used to it.Despite Marcone’s assurances, it had fucking hurt.Amazingly, John had held himself back from thrusting until he saw that Harry’s taut muscles had relaxed and he no longer yowled every time he pushed into the other man.Even then, he started relatively gently, only gaining in pace and force when he saw that Harry actually found the movement stimulating rather than torturous.

At this point, Harry was so overstimulated it was almost painful.He had already come once, brought to it by the expert movements of Marcone’s hand combined with the...other things the man was doing to him.Again, he thought the vampire blood must be at play: there was no way he’d normally spring back to attention right after coming.Harry would have considered the matter further, but the sensation of Marcone placing a biting kiss on the side of his neck derailed any line of thought.

“Does this feel good, Harry?”

Once again, Harry experienced a powerful wave of hatred for the fact that he wasn’t allowed to lie.

“Fuck you, yes - you fucking bastard - _it does_.”

Marcone smiled and rocked into Harry, eliciting a deep moan from the other man.“And which is better - doing this with me or with Miss Rodriguez?”

 _If looks could kill..._ Harry turned his head and glared up at Marcone with fire in his eyes.He couldn’t lie.Marcone had ordered him and he couldn’t lie, not without losing his power.

“You, fucking bastard - it’s better with you,” he snarled.Harry wasn’t sure if he wanted to smash up the apartment again or cry.Either way, he doubted he looked very threatening with what Marcone was currently doing to him...

“I thought so,” Marcone said, and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of Harry’s neck.

And all speaking ceased for a time.Some things don’t require words. 

When Marcone did speak again, his normally immaculate hair was tousled and sweat glistened on his exposed skin.Harry, who was now lying facing the other man, had his eyes screwed tightly shut and a hand clamped over his mouth, trying to hold back his cries.As John thrust, he pumped Harry’s weeping member in time with his movements.Pants and moans hung heavy in the warm air.

“Look at me, Harry.”

The wizard opened his eyes, looking up at him with half lidded eyes.

“From now on you are mine,” John said, voice rough, “When I call you, you will come running.We will do this,” he punctuated the word with a particularly hard thrust, causing Harry to tremble violently, “as much as I want - and you are going to enjoy it.You can have no other partners.” He pressed a biting kiss against Harry’s neck, leaving a mark.When he pulled back, he continued to speak.“You are no longer allowed to touch yourself unless you have my direct permission.If you need relief, you will come to me for it.Do you understand?”

Harry remained silent, fighting off the inevitable climax Marcone was rushing him towards.He simply stared up at the other man, something like realisation dawning within him.

Following another thrust, Harry cried out, back arching from the bed.Despite the force behind Marcone’s actions, he spoke with surprising gentleness.He stroked a hand against the wizard’s cheek.“Do you understand, Harry?”

“Y-yes!You fucking bastard, _I understand!_ ”

Marcone smiled down at him.For once, Harry though he saw genuine joy in the other man’s money coloured eyes.

“Good,” he said, moving down to capture the other man’s lips in a kiss.“I love you too, Harry.”

Harry’s breath hitched in surprise.However, John didn’t give him any time to respond or recover.He continued pushing into the other man, overloading his already heightened senses with pleasure.Harry came first with a gasp as he did so, biting down on his fist hard enough to leave marks.Marcone followed suit a moment later.He slumped forward onto the other man, his chest rising and falling in unison with Harry’s.

After a minute or so, he pulled himself away from Harry, appreciating the gentle gasp the other man made at the sensation.He then moved beside Harry and threw a languid arm around the other man, pulling him into a loose embrace. 

There was no need for a wedding ring.For John, this arrangement would work just fine.

* * *

By now, Marcone had showered and was sat once again on the edge of the bed.John found watching the other man sleep fascinating: this was the rare opportunities for him to see Harry’s face without the near perpetual scowl he always wore around him.The lights of the city glimmered from the windows of the apartment, casting a hazy light into the room.

The morning would undoubtedly be entertaining - Harry’s shame and anger would make an amusing combination.Unbeknownst to John, a smile crept onto his lips at the thought. He was already calculating how long he would have to wait until the wizard’s rage had abated and he could schedule another such tryst with the wizard.

Getting that White Court vampire involved had been invaluable, and something he had paid handsomely for.Without it, he couldn’t imagine Harry allowing himself to relax at all and let himself appreciate what was being done to him.Yes, Harry would bluster and snarl, but they would both remember what had passed between them. _They would both know._

John decided that he would start small.His success would be from the little things.He’d arrange a few more minor inconveniences, ones comfortably distant from the real nature of his work, for Harry to deal with.Over time, Harry would get used to him, the nature of their relationship, and the open wound of their ‘arrangement’ would turn into a minor ache.It would take time, lots and lots of time, but the end result would be well worth the wait.

And... there was one other significant detail that he needed to arrange.However, it would require Gard’s assistance and could wait until morning.

John went back to bed.He slung an arm over the wizard, pulling him possessively against his chest. _His. Dresden was finally his._

* * *

 Days turned to months and months turned to years.Time inevitably passed and, as is almost always the case, things changed.

It was early evening and Johnny Marcone’s office was illuminated by the gentle light of sunset.He was sat behind his desk.Rather than reviewing numbers, giving orders or making plans to further his ‘business’, he was indulging himself in a rare moment of reflection: Johnny Marcone was thinking.

After some time, he came to a decision. He picked up the phone on his desk and pressed a button.After several moments, his call was answered by a familiar voice.

“Dresden.”

“Harry, I’d like you to come to the office, there’s something I’d like you to see.”

The other man sighed.“Really?You know I hate going to Barad-dûr.”

There was an awkward pause.

“What?”

“You know, the Dark Tower?Sauron? _The Lord of the Rings?_ ”

“Harry, are you _sure_ you lost your virginity before I came along?Frankly, I’m amazed that you-”

“Hilarious,” Harry cut him off mid flow.“Anyway, do I have to come over?I’m kind of in the middle of something.” 

“It will be worth it.I’ll see you in an hour?”

“ _Yeah, yeah._ ”

John was going to continue speaking, but the line had already cut off.Yes, time goes hand in hand with change, but some things will be the same forever.

Harry arrived one hour and a meaningful ten minutes later.He leaned against the edge of Marcone’s desk. 

If he was honest with himself, he didn’t like being here, in John’s office: the room held memories.He remembered the start of this, whatever it was between him and the other man, when he had come begging for his help.John, being a businessman, had of course taken advantage and the arrangement - that still stood to this day - had been formed between them. 

Obey my orders, or lose your powers.Then, it had horrified him.And now..? Well, he wasn’t sure exactly how he felt.

Marcone pulled Harry from his reverie by standing and pulling the other man into a kiss.

“I should have you in the office more often,” he said.

“And risk me blowing up half the building’s electrics?I don’t think so.”

“It’s a risk I am willing to take.”

“I’ll pass.Anyway, why am I here?If you had me leave my work just to make a pass at me, then I’m blowing up half this building.”

“You’ll see in a moment.”Marcone smiled, moving a hand so it rested on Harry’s thigh.“We have a few minutes.Why don’t we make use of the time?”

* * *

Hendricks knocked twice on the office door before entering the room, a manila folder tucked under his arm.He was still very much a creature of habit.Every day, he delivered his report to Mr Marcone about Dresden’s whereabouts and activities.Lately, the boss himself had been featuring in those very same reports more and more, but Hendricks pushed the fact to one side.Everyone, even the boss, had their quirks.If Mr Marcone’s happened to be a wizard with a foul mouth and a destructive streak, then so be it.

Hendricks was used to delivering his report to the boss and the boss alone.No one else had ever been privy to such discussion.That, however, seemed like it was about to change.

When Hendricks entered the office, Harry Dresden, the very object of his report, was in the room. 

Where Mr Marcone’s appearance, as always, was impeccable, Dresden was disheveled (more so than usual, anyway).The man’s his hair was slightly mussed and his leather duster was slung messily over one of the chairs in front of the desk.

Unsure of how to proceed, he looked to his boss for assurance.Mr Marcone must know what Hendricks was here for, so why was on earth was Dresden there?Hendricks was fairly sure that when carrying out secret surveillance, the secrecy was a fairly crucial element...

“Proceed as normal, Mr Hendricks.”Marcone’s voice was as calm and confident as always.

Hendrick’s faltered. _Marcone wanted him to?_ “But, sir-“

“Proceed as usual.”There was a slight emphasis placed on the words that told Hendricks that this was an order.

With an intensely awkward glance at Harry, Hendricks began to read from the report in his hand. 

“Dresden left his apartment at 9:35 this morning...”

As Hendricks read through the events of Harry’s day, Marcone kept his eyes fixed on the wizard.

“After completing some work at the office, he then drove back to the apartment.We presume he then-”

Harry’s face was a carefully blank canvas.From his complete lack of response, Hendricks may as well have been reading out a particularly boring children’s story.

Marcone decided to put his bodyguard out of his misery.

“That will be enough.Thank you, Mr Hendricks.”

“Sir.”

The redhead couldn’t get out of the room fast enough.As soon as the door shut behind him, silence reigned in the office.

Marcone spoke first.

“Well, Harry?” 

The wizard thought for a moment before he responded.

“Wow,” he said drawing out the word, “that was creepy as hell.How long has that been a thing?”

“I had the surveillance started a few days after we first met.”

Harry gave a low whistle.

“You really need some new hobbies.I mean- _God_.I know I get up to some exciting stuff, but do you really need to know about where I buy my groceries?Or whenever I leave the house to go to Burger King?”Harry shook his head.“You’ve already got me all tied up with our ‘agreement’ - isn’t that enough for you?”

John shrugged but said nothing.

“Well, I’m not going to pretend that I’m surprised or anything.You always were suspiciously well informed about my life and over the years I’ve noticed a few too many curtains twitching when I leave the apartment to be coincidence.”He paused, expression thoughtful. “But why are you showing me this now?Don’t tell me you’ve actually got a conscience in there somewhere.”

Marcone looked at Harry with those eyes the colour of faded dollar bills.Lately, those eyes no longer repelled him.They were too familiar.

“I wanted to show you,” John said, “so that I can tell you that I’m putting a stop to it.”

Harry raised an eyebrow.“Oh really, and why is that?”

John reached out a hand and took Harry’s in his own.“Because it’s not necessary any longer.”

There was a pause loaded with things left unsaid.

“Right.Well, thanks.” Harry glanced away, face suddenly uncomfortably hot.“And the next time you want to be a massive stalker and want to know where I am or what I ate for lunch, why don’t you do what normal people do and just ask?”

Despite his laissez-fair attitude, Harry knew what was going on here.Marcone wasn’t one to prove his devotion in normal ways, so he resorted to utterly psychotic methods instead.From soul gazing the other man, he already knew that Marcone had the heart of a predator - and predators are pretty shit with boxes of chocolate and bouquets of roses.What predators were good at was... _Well_ , he had already found out exactly where Marcone’s strengths lay. 

Marcone smiled, expression unreadable.“I’m sure I can oblige you.”

“Good, now I’m going to get the fuck out of here and get on with my work.Remember, _call_ me,” he drew out the vowel sounds for emphasis, “don’t _stalk_ me, dumbass.”

“See you soon, Harry.”

The wizard moved forward, pressed a swift kiss to John’s cheek, and then left. 

Once the other man was gone, Marcone sat back in his chair, wondering if he should feel guilty or not.For the record, he didn’t, but he still wasn’t being entirely straight with Harry.

So, Harry now knew about the surveillance.What Harry didn’t know was that their ‘agreement’, the bond forcing Harry to obey his orders, was gone.He had annulled it after the first time he and Harry had slept together.

He’d checked with Gard how to do it - a very simple process - and then he’d done it.However, he’d never told Harry.He assumed that if Harry would let Marcone, a man he obviously hated, sleep with him due to their contract, then anything else he could ask of the wizard would be secondary. 

So far, Marcone had been proved right.Although Harry could now disobey his orders and face absolutely no consequence, the other man never had.After everything he’d done to, done with the wizard, a smile came unbidden to his lips, it wasn’t necessary for Marcone to use it as a threat any more. 

In other words, Dresden had gotten so used to being collared, he didn’t even notice when it was taken off.The only thing now binding Harry to John was a complete lie.

So, would he ever be able to tell Harry?Possibly one day?Possibly never?He was pleasantly surprised by how well Harry responded to the surveillance, but he imagined the fall out from this particular conversation would be of a scale he hadn’t yet seen. _Tempting_.

In any case, John would have to wait.There would be no use in telling Harry for him to never return to John’s arms.The trick was to wait until he could tell Harry and i _t would make no difference_.And one thing that John had was patience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Favourite typo: Everyone, even the boss, had their quirks.  If Mr Marcone’s happened to be a wizard with a foul moth and a destructive streak, then so be it. 
> 
> One day, I would love to read a story about Harry and his foul moth...
> 
> With this finished, I’d love to keep adding to the Dresden Files fanfiction community.  I’ve already got a Harry/Michael thing going, but please do watch this space.  I don’t think I’m quite done with my Harry/Marcone obsession just yet... If you’ve got any suggestions, feel free to shoot them over. :)  
> 
> As always, thanks for any comments and kudos.  Also, a big thank you to SubverbalDreams and LiviaHyde7 who have kept with this fic. :)


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